Will He Be Happy?
by KafkaExMachina
Summary: During Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts Dumbledore asks Snape if Harry will be happy after Voldemort is dead. He doesn't like the answer. Snape decides to clean up the mess. DH except Epi.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Company are wholly owned by J.K. Rowling et. al. I am making no profit from their work.

A/N: DH compliant, except epilogue. Slight AU from DH due to extra manipulations and extrapolations. The story beings sometime during Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts.

Chapter 1

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his office desk, deep in thought. Severus Snape slumped in a chair opposite the headmaster as he waited for the elderly wizard to speak. The two sat in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Dumbledore let out a long and ragged sigh.

"Severus, do you think, after all of this is done with, that the boy will be happy?"

Snape looked at the headmaster solemnly. "Do you want the comforting answer, Albus, or the honest one?"

Dumbledore smile slightly at his friend. "When have you ever given the comforting answer?"

"More times than you can imagine. You haven't answered my question."

"Hmm… perhaps you could give me the comforting answer first, then the honest one." Dumbledore said with a hint of a twinkle in his eyes.

"Very well. Assuming that the brat manages to succeed, something I find very unlikely, I certain that he will then dance on lilacs and mince about with the little Weasley brat popping out sprog after sprog after sprog." Severus gave a magnificent sneer. "Indeed, his happiness will be so great that a tidal wave of red-haired green-eyed arrogant brats will overflow Hogwarts making me very glad that I will be retired or dead. In fact, the instant that the Dark Lord dies, Potter will magically recover from every trauma you've forced on him, correcting all of those nasty flaws and tendencies you've shoved into his weak little mind, instead becoming a veritable fountain of joy and love."

Dumbledore winced. "That was your comforting answer?"

"It didn't comfort you?"

"It might have, if I didn't need an army of house elves to clean up pools of dripping sarcasm."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "What did you expect, optimism? Do you want the honest answer now?"

"It can't be that much worse than your comforting answer."

Snape scoffed a bit, quietly. He carefully schooled his expression into neutrality and stared deep into the headmaster's eyes. "You want to know if Potter will be happy, assuming he manages to finish the Dark Lord?"

Albus nodded.

"No."

"What?" The utter flat certainty in Snape's tone stunned the headmaster.

"No. Potter will not be happy. He may think, on occasions, that he's happy, but he'll be wrong. You've assured that."

"But… but… what about Miss Weasley? What about Harry's friends? Won't they make him happy?"

"The Wealey's?" Snape sneered. "Potter's friends? Albus I thought the senile thing was an act."

"It is." The headmaster harrumphed.

Snape waved his hand dismissively. "Never mind. The Weasley girl is following in her mother's footsteps. I know why you are allowing it. You want to give him something to die for, but you're counting on his nature to keep her far enough away that she isn't something to live for." Dumbledore nodded sadly, motioning Severus to continue. "I even understand why you are letting Miss Granger's youth and insecurity run rampant without the least bit of intervention. So be it, but do you really think that Potter will be happy in the end?"

Albus stammered, "but… but… they will have time afterwards to…"

"Please," Snape snapped, "don't be ridiculous. The Weasley children will capitalize on the pair's weakness and war-time exuberance to make sure they marry straight away. There won't be any time for the children to grow up before they find themselves trapped in a piss-poor marriage. And don't play the beneficent grandfather act to me," the potions master spat out, "it's quite obvious that you hate Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Look at your damn will. You gave the Weasley boy a deluminator that leads him back to Harry. How droll, saying that Mr. Weasley sucks all the light out of his surroundings and letting him know that you KNOW he will abandon his friends. How very astute of you. Miss Granger, though, I thought you actually were fond of the girl." Snape's tone softened. "She's so very much like Lily, you know. Even in her abysmal taste in men."

Albus looked at Severus inquisitively. "I thought you felt that Harry was like his father, not Ron."

Snape snorted. "An act, as you should very well know. Mr. Weasley acts far more like James than Potter ever has. Spoiled, selfish, always wanting things that he hasn't earned. The brat is malicious, impulsively cruel, disgustingly lazy, willfully ignorant, and jealous of his betters. Mr. Weasley even lacks the positive trait of consistency. No, Potter reminds me of…"

"You," Albus interjected with a soft twinkle in his yes.

Snape let out a shuddering sigh. "Yes. Me. I see my life in Potter's in far too many ways, most of them your fault. And now I've had to watch Lily choose a worthless man again; this time without the consolation that her suitor managed to grow half-way acceptable. You are a lucky man, Albus. It was by the slimmest of margins that Harry did not turn into something far worse than he did. You've gambled many, many lives."

"For the greater good," Albus said weakly, "for the greater good. Let us hope I am right."

"You had better be or the world is buggered. So tell me, Albus, why do you hate Miss Granger."

Albus shook his head slowly. "Why do you say that?"

"Albus, I'm not some naïve student," Severus spat, "what you are giving Miss Granger in your will is an insult of the highest order. You know as well as I that the book will impart absolutely NOTHING of use. The girl will pour over a children's book for uncounted hours trying to decipher a bit of knowledge that any pure-blood wizard would know by heart. You are mocking her, telling her that no matter what she learns she will never be a true part of our society, and all of her hard work and effort is utterly useless when it comes to helping her friends. Trust me, Albus, she WILL determine what you meant and it WILL devastate her when she does. For Merlin's sake, she idolizes you." Snape stared at the headmaster accusingly.

Albus faltered under the glare. In a small voice he said, "She's not right for the lad."

Snape threw his hands into the air. "For the last bloody time, Albus, Potter IS! NOT! GAY!"

"…but"

"No! No buts! I've been through his memories. Potter is NOT gay! You've buggered up his life regardless Albus. Do you think Miss Weasley would let Potter escape the marriage vows even if he were a Sodomite? The students say I'm a hateful man…"

The headmaster quirked into a grin, regaining some sparkle in his eyes. "They are right, you know."

Snape let the smallest of smiles escape. "Indeed. I've worked hard for my image, and I am quite proud of it."

Albus chuckled. "Yes, yes you have. Back to the matter at hand; are you certain about all of this?"

"I am."

The headmaster sadly nodded. "Alright, do you know how I can make amends? I've done such terrible things to the boy, and I will pay the price to save him. Can you tell me how to give the lad a future worth living, without harming what must occur?"

"I can. Give me a week."

"Very well, Severus, very well. You may leave."

Snape stood from his chair, and nodded tersely at the headmaster. He swept purposefully out of the office, cloak billowing. Albus shook his head at his friend's theatrics and then slowly lowered his head into his hands. "Harry, my boy, such a terrible burden I've placed on you, such terrible things I've done. Now I place your future happiness into the hands of one you hate only slightly less than Tom. May you never forgive me, for I will never forgive myself."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Snape sat across from the headmaster, face studiously neutral. Albus looked at his friend with sad eyes. "So, Tom's plan is coming to a head?"

"Yes, Albus," Snape said grimly.

The headmaster sighed. "What must be must be. I will take Harry out to gather another horcrux tonight. You know my wish for Draco?"

"Yes, Albus, I will finish the boy's task."

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you. Have you…"

"I have. You need to sign this." Snape handed a formal parchment to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Severus, you cannot be serious!"

"You are Potter's magical guardian, are you not? Miss. Granger is a muggle-born, so I assume that as her headmaster you are her magical guardian as well."

Albus nodded. "Yes, but…"

"Then you can and will sign the contract."

"Severus, this hasn't been done in centuries. How can you… how are you so sure… but the requirements…" Albus stuttered, shocked.

Snape raised a single eyebrow. "Which requirements are unfulfilled?"

"Well, the emotional…"

Snape waved away the objection contemptuously. "They do, very much so. Potter more than Miss. Granger; however, I believe that will change after this year. I've seen the boy's mind, Albus, and you know as well as I that if a choice arises between Mr. Weasley and Potter…"

"Miss. Granger will choose Harry, yes. She always has." Dumbledore finished.

Snape nodded. "Thus fulfilling the requirement."

The headmaster shook his head. "What about the sacrifices? Who…"

Snape smiled grimly. "You are the first, headmaster. We both know you are dying. You will have time to mark your name."

"Indeed I will," Albus sadly stated, "indeed I will. But who…"

"I am the second."

"Severus!" Dumbledore exclaimed, "No!"

Snape shook his head. "Yes, Albus, the chances of me surviving this mess are slim to nil. If, perchance, I do make it through until the end I refuse to languish uselessly filled with guilt. Consider this my final penance. I have already marked my name."

Dumbledore gazed upon the potion master with sad eyes. "Know then, for what it's worth, that you finally have my respect." The potion master brushed off the comment.

Nodding sadly the headmaster asked, "the third?"

Snape broke out into a wicked smile. "Potter."

'WHAT?" Dumbledore exclaimed.

"Oh yes," Severus slyly stated, "when Potter finds out about the contract, I know exactly what he is going to do. I'm counting on it."

Dumbledore stared at the potion master, dumbfounded. "It will certainly prove the contract valid… but how…"

"Don't worry about the how. I've found the how."

"I suppose then, if the contract is fulfilled, you are correct. What if Miss. Granger dies in the war?"

Snape shook his head sadly. "If Miss. Granger dies, Albus, so dies Potter, and so dies hope. Let us pray she lives."

"Indeed, Severus, indeed."

Two weeks after the death of Voldemort:

Harry walked numbly through the halls of the Ministry of Magic. He'd been quite shocked when a Ministry owl delivered a letter requesting Harry's presence at a meeting with the Minister. The past two weeks had been a flurry of numb pain; between the ceremonies and funerals Harry found himself drifting aimlessly. He wasn't surprised that he and his friends weren't part of the rebuilding process, even though Ron thought that they should. Harry's mind drifted back to the argument.

"What? All I'm saying is that we saved the bloody planet! Why shouldn't they be asking us for advice?" Ron exclaimed.

"Honestly, Ronald! Do you have any idea how to govern anything?" Hermione asked, heatedly.

"Well, no… but…"

"But nothing, Ronald! You don't know how to run a government, and neither do Harry and I! No matter that I think we need to change all sorts of bad laws, like the subjugation of house elves, we didn't take over the Ministry, we saved it!"

Harry chuckled at his friends' antics. Even though it was quite obvious that Hermione had forgiven Ron it still seemed that all they did together was snog or argue. A frown appeared on his face. For some strange reason the sight or even idea of Ron and Hermione no longer amused him. Instead, it vaguely hurt. It didn't help that instead of being happy, Harry felt nauseous whenever Ginny came near. He'd asked one grizzled yet sympathetic auror if his reaction was normal considering the war, but the auror just grimly told him that the symptoms sounded more like potion hangover than mental trauma. Harry didn't have a chance to ask him what he meant, and he'd forgotten to ask Hermione later.

Upon leaving his ruminations, Harry found himself at the Minister's office. He opened the door and nodded to the Minister's secretary. She beamed at Harry. "The Minister is expecting you, Mr. Potter. I'm sure you've heard this a lot, but thank you for saving us all."

Harry waved off the praise. "Should I knock or just let myself in?"

"Oh, right. No, just let yourself in." The secretary blushed.

"Right then. Well, um… good day I guess." Harry opened the door to the inner office. Unlike Fudge, the current Minister did not appear to be overly concerned with decorations. While Dark Art detectors were spread about, it was nothing like the fake-Moody's office from Harry's fourth year. Harry noticed the lack of self-aggrandizing pictures; rather he saw only a single frame containing the Minister's smiling family. The woman behind the desk looked grizzled and hard. Harry could feel the burden of war on her shoulders, and had instantly felt a deep camaraderie with the woman. Her name was Fritzi Brombeere and she worked as part of the resistance during the war. She met Harry's eyes and gestured for him to sit down.

"You wanted to see me, Madam Minister?" Harry asked.

The Minister nodded. "Yes. The strangest thing showed up on my desk today. I felt I that you deserved to see it before anybody else." She handed Harry a long piece of parchment. Harry's eyes widened in shock and then narrowed as he read the document. The Minister watched him carefully. "So, Mr. Potter, I assume that you know what this is?" Harry nodded while glaring at the document. "I will also assume that you did not know about this before I showed it to you?" Harry nodded again. "Do you have questions?"

"Is this legitimate?" Harry asked.

The Minister nodded. "I'm afraid so. Legitimate as well as legally and magically binding."

"Damn you Dumbledore," Harry growled softly, "I thought after I killed that bastard you were done buggering around in my life." He forced a neutral face. "I'm assuming the standard exit clause? No other ways out?"

She nodded. "Correct."

Harry let out a shuddering sigh. "Damn. Do you mind keeping this quiet for a bit? I really need some time to think, and I need to tell Ron and Hermione about this before the papers get a hold of it."

The Minister nodded. "I'll see what I can do. Contracts like this don't get publicly registered for a few weeks after they are executed, and it appears that the contract was set to appear two weeks after Voldemort's death."

Harry stood up and offered his hand to the Minister. She shook his hand and then watched him leave the office on shaky legs. "Poor bastard," she thought, "I wonder if Albus started going senile at the end. Bloody well wouldn't surprise me. Still, they are a strong pair of kids, I'm sure they'll figure something out." The Minister returned to her paperwork.

Thirty minutes later she was disturbed by a nervous looking junior auror. "Madam Minister?" The auror asked shakily.

She looked up at him a raised eyebrow.

"Um… I'm sorry to interrupt, but would you know why Mr. Potter just entered the Chamber of the Veil ?"

"WHAT?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

Harry smiled grimly as he strode through the door leading to the chamber with the Veil. 'Nice to see that my bloody fame worked out for me this time.' A wry chuckle escaped his lips at how quickly the aurors let him into the room. 'Didn't even bother to ask why I wanted in.' His eyes took in the black walls and obsidian floors. The room drew his gaze to the raised obsidian pedestal with the terrible archway perched on the middle.

'Damn you, Dumbledore. I won, I fulfilled the prophecy and saved the world. Why wasn't that enough for you? Why did you have to ruin my friends' future like you ruined my childhood? Was it another prophecy?' Harry spent a few moments envisioning the future he could have had. He dreamed about marrying Ginny, his first child, teaching Teddy to fly while Ginny watched. He dreamed about his children playing with bushy-haired red-heads, laughing with Ron over the story about how Ron's first daughter blew up the shelving trying to get her favorite book. He pictured his best mates' twentieth anniversary, standing up in front of the large party and telling embarrassing stories about carnivorous canaries.

He bit back tears. 'It doesn't do to dwell on dreams.' Harry reminded himself. He felt a lead weight drawing down his stomach. 'What possessed the man to create a frigging betrothal contract between Hermione and me? How was he able to do that, I didn't notice Hermione's parent's signatures on it. Did he really think that Hermione and I would make a descent couple?' For the first time in his life, Harry let himself dream about a future with Hermione. He was surprised how easily he could envision himself living with her, seeing her across the table from him for the rest of his life. His pulse quickened a bit at the thought of sharing her bed and all the other fun activities that go along with matrimony. The idea of being Hermione's husband was so comfortable and natural it almost made him smile.

Waves of black guilt burst from the fleeting contentment. 'Merlin, how can I be so selfish?' Harry thought. He tried to picture Hermione and Ron's faces as he tells them about the betrothal. Small shudders overtook his forced poise. He saw the look of abject betrayal on Ron's face, and the sound of Ron screaming in rage filled his mind. "I thought you were my best mate! Why did you take her away from me? You knew how I felt about her, Harry, you knew!" Ron's face morphed into Ginny's weeping features. Harry heard her sobbing, "Why Hermione, Harry? Why not me? Why wasn't I good enough?" He saw himself trying to explain but only hurting Ginny more. His heart shattered when he pictured Hermione's reaction. She stares at him, brown eyes heavy with anger, sorrow, and disappointment. "Harry, how could you?" He heard her say. "Do you think I'm going to be your slave? I know you are happy with this barbaric ritual. How dare you tell me I can't be with Ron?" Harry imagined her screaming louder with each sentence. "I never wanted you! I will never want you! You've never deserved me! You will never deserve me! You are nothing but a wretched enslaving rapist! I hate you!" He staggered forward a few steps, gagging. 'I can't do that to them,' he thought, 'I won't let this happen.' He stepped up onto the raised platform.

Harry stared at the black curtain that covered the rune-inscribed archway. He could feel every beat of his heart, the still air on his skin. He heard the voices behind the veil, each distinct sound echoing in his ears. "It really is easier the second time." He muttered. "I suppose this is the best way to ensure that the Hallows go back to their owner. I wonder if that's why. He knew what I had to do last time. He probably knew this time. It's for the best. I'll see mom and dad again, along with Sirius and all the other people who died because of me. Maybe they'll forgive me. Sure, Ron and Hermione will hurt, but they'll have each other. Ginny will get a new guy; Merlin knows she's good at that. Hell, I always suspected she'd find a better guy than me, this will just guarantee it." A soft sarcastic chuckle escaped between tense lips. "I hate to say it… It's for the greater good." Harry took another step closer to the Veil. "This is hard," he said to the empty room, "not easy. Good." He leapt forward.

The Minister threw open the chamber door in time to see Harry's form fade into the Veil. "Bloody buggering bollocks!" she shouted. "Sodding imbecilic self-sacrificing Gryffindors!" Her exclamations caused the aurors behind her to jump in shock. Before the aurors' feet returned to the ground a warbling and calming song echoed throughout the chamber. A flare of fire burst in front of the Minister, and a phoenix appeared just long enough to drop a thick envelope into her hands. With another burst of flame the bird vanished. The Minister stared at the envelope dumbfounded. "Wha…" Her hands automatically broke the seal and pulled out the letter.

_Dear Minister of Magic…_

The Burrow:

Hermione and Ron were half-heartedly bickering to pass the time. The pair sat next to each other at the kitchen table with the remaining Weasleys, including Bill's wife Fleur. Molly bustled about the kitchen worriedly while Arthur sat reading a large sheaf of parchment he brought home from work. Ginny sat next to an empty chair, glancing worriedly in the direction of the living room.

"Don't worry," Molly said to Ginny, "I'm sure Harry is just held up approving some award ceremony or another. You know how much he hates recognition, so he's probably forcing people into honoring his friends instead of himself. He'll be here in time for supper. You know how much he hates to miss a meal."

Ginny grinned. "Mum, that's Ron."

Molly smile. "Oh, right. How silly of me. Well, you know how much Harry hates making Ron miss a meal."

"Yes Harry does, because Ron won't stop belly-aching for hours." Hermione interjected with a sly grin.

"Oi! Just because it's true don't mean you gotta say it!" Ron complained.

A burst of flame startled the family out of laughter. Swooping about the room, the phoenix dropped an envelope into the hands of Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Molly and Arthur. With another burst of flame, the phoenix vanished.

"Fawkes…" Hermione said in awed tones. "He vanished after the funeral. Why would he deliver letters now?"

Carefully, the family broke the seals and pulled out the parchment. Each letter was addressed individually to the holder.

Beyond the Veil:

Harry glanced around at the familiar features of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He sighed in pleasure from the peace and calm that death provided. His eyebrows scrunched together in slight confusion over the lack of the Hogwarts Express. "Right, I'm dead. Check. I'm quite ready to move on to the next adventure. Check. I've got a well ordered mind. Check. So where in the bloody hell is that miserable train? I've got moving on to do, and I'd hate to bugger up Death's busy schedule."

"I'm afraid you can't do that, Mr. Potter," spoke a smooth voice from behind him, "and I must say your Gryffindor sense of self-sacrifice is pathetically predicable."

Harry spun about, seeing no one. "Snape? Why are you here? Where's the headmaster?"

The ghostly form of Severus Snape stepped dramatically out of the shadows. Harry clapped lightly. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"You always did know how to make an entrance," Harry said.

Snape nodded. "I'm pleased to see that you finally learned to recognize talent. Albus isn't here because he was afraid to face you again."

"Huh?" Harry asked intelligently.

"I see you have maintained your level of intellectual agility. One moment, Potter, there's another person here." Snape beckoned to somebody behind Harry. Harry looked, but didn't see anything. "Come out you ugly mutt, or are you to busy licking your balls?" Snape called out with his voice dripping contempt. "It's not like Potter is angry at you."

Harry exclaimed in happiness at the sight of a mangy black dog meandering towards him. Without a second thought he threw his arms around the dog and cried into its fur. "Oh Sirius I missed you so much," Harry said as the dog shifted into Harry's godfather. Sirius moved to embrace Harry. "I missed you too, pup, I missed you too. I'm not happy to see you this soon. I thought you would be old and gray!"

"If you are done with the tearful reunions, I believe Potter wants to know why he's currently sitting in limbo instead of his moving towards his final reward." Snape sneered at the pair. "That would be my doing."

Harry shook his head in dismay. "Even dead you are a slimy git," he said in a flat monotone.

Snape smiled evilly. "Potter, you have no idea. You have absolutely no idea."

The sheer glee in Snape's voice sent waves of cold fear down Sirius and Harry's spines.

Severus continued to smile. "I'm going to enjoy this. You see, Harry, it all started when Albus asked me if you were going to be happy…"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

Minister Brombeere blinked in disbelief. First, a bonding contract appears on her desk, then the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Killed-Voldemort-Again suicide dives into the Veil, and now a sodding phoenix drops a letter addressed to the Minister in her hands. Unable to find a better option, the Minister returned to reading the letter.

_Dear Minister of Magic,_

_Since you are reading this letter I know that the Dark Lord is dead and a certain chain of events has begun. I will explain what has happened, but first you need to learn some history kept hidden from public eye. _

* * *

The Burrow:

Everybody began reading the letter. Quiet gasps broke the silence as they took in the words the former spy had penned down. Hermione's face took on a horrible skew as rage warred with resignation. She'd suspected Harry's life was worse than he let on, but she never guessed at the scale.

_Let us start with Harry Potter's childhood. Forget everything you have read. I do not expect the boy has told anybody the full story, or even the highlights. He did not have an idyllic childhood. He did not even have a meager one. Harry Potter was raised by a pair of spiteful, nasty muggles. His childhood was spent locked in a tiny closet nestled under the stairs. Indeed, I would not hesitate to say that Harry Potter's childhood mirrored the life of a Malfoy house elf in every conceivable facet. He never knew his heritage. He grew up being convinced of his own worthlessness. _

_Albus Dumbledore knew exactly how the boy was treated. He counted on it. And despite everything, he returned Harry Potter to the tender mercies of his muggle relatives to ensure that Harry remained pliable, not so he remained safe._

_Would you lock a fourteen year old boy up with three people who hate him and then shut down all communication between him and people who care about him? Would you do this after said boy watched the resurrection of the Dark Lord as well as the death of a fellow classmate? Albus did, with full knowledge of his actions._

_Harry Potter has no real concept of a loving family. He has no sense of self worth outside of what his death brings other people. He suffers from chronic long-term malnutrition and poisoning (see the bottom of this letter for references to a proper series of potions and antidotes needed: I know better than any other as I was tasked in the creation of certain draughts unknowingly applied to Harry Potter). He suffers from untreated Crucio level curse effects applied almost nightly for at least three years (again, see the bottom of this letter to find the proper treatment. Necessity forced me to become an expert at treating Cruciatus related injuries). Albus knew these things, and either forbade treatment or worse, encouraged their application._

_The greater good is a horrible thing, is it not? Growing a hero is not so dissimilar to the actions of a Dark Lord._

_Every act of inhumanity, every preventable pain inflicted on Harry Potter was done for a singular goal:_

_Albus needed Harry Potter to have a world to die for and nothing to live for. _

_He needed a hero who could still persevere through starvation. Harry Potter was starved to the point of malnutrition by his relatives, year after year, even during the summer holidays. _

_He needed a hero without pride or greed. Harry Potter wore tattered hand-me-downs from his cousin because other than school uniforms he never owned clothes on his own. _

_He needed a hero that would continue regardless of pain or illness. Harry Potter learned that showing sickness resulted in harsher labor. Even his glasses were paid for through starvation. _

_He needed a hero who was unfailingly loyal. Have you heard of the muggle term Stockholm Syndrome? Knowing how pathetically ignorant most wizards and witches are about muggle sciences, I'm certain you haven't. Research it for yourself. _

_He needed a martyr, not a hero. Albus succeeded._

_Voldemort is dead, at a cost to Harry Potter that you can never imagine._

_Albus Dumbledore was a great man, a great and terrible man. He died knowing exactly what he had done. He died knowing one thing:_

_Albus Dumbledore did what needed to be done. Albus Dumbledore was right. Voldemort is dead and Harry Potter lives. These words are a sickening as they are true: Sacrifices are made for the good of the world. Sometimes the choice between what is right and what is easy makes a man into a monster._

_Albus Dumbledore was a great and terrible wizard, who did what was needed, and in the end paid willing penance. Never forget this._

_Now that we have dispensed with our history lesson, allow me to explain the first act in this chain of events. It all started when Albus asked me a simple question: "Will he be happy?"_

Arthur fumed, Molly and Ginny looked ready to kill, Hermione radiated anger, and Ron summed up the feelings with a succinct shout of "Bloody Hell!"

* * *

Beyond the Veil:

Harry glared at Snape's specter with unconcealed venom. "Great, so now everybody is going to know about the Dursleys. I didn't bloody well tell them for a bloody good reason!"

Snape smiled. "I know, Potter. That was part of the plan. Self-sacrifice and all…"

Harry continued glaring, while Sirius tried to puzzle out exactly what had happened. "Severus, what did you…? I mean, Harry, why did you…?"

Snape focused on Sirius. "Oh, do you want to know why Potter decided to commit suicide for the second time in as many weeks?"

"Yeah, I mean sure that letter is embarrassing but it's not THAT bad, is it?"

Harry shook his head angrily. "I didn't even know about the bloody letters before I hopped through."

"So why did…"

"I'll answer that for him, Sirius." Snape interjected smoothly. "He decided to end his miserable existence because Albus signed off on my idea to ensure Potter's future happiness regardless of his pathetically immature emotional ignorance."

"Eh?" Sirius asked sagely.

The wicked smile returned to the potion master's features. "As the magical guardian of both Potter and Granger, Albus had the authority to create and approve magical contracts for the two of them." Sirius nodded to indicate he followed. "Therefore during Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts, Albus created a formal betrothal between him and Miss. Granger, and charmed the contract to appear on the Minister's desk exactly two weeks after the death of Voldemort."

Sirius barked out happy laughter. "That's bloody brilliant! Severus, I take back almost everything bad I've ever said about you! Er, well, most of it. At least half. I always knew those two belonged together!" He looked over at Harry whose lack of joviality was clearly written on his angry features. "Um, that is brilliant, right pup?" Sirius asked weakly.

"No, it is not buggering all brilliant! In fact, it is quite the bloody buggering opposite! Hermione's bloody well with Ron, damn it! Snape bloody well knows that I would never hurt Hermione or Ron like that! He was bloody well counting on it. I'm only here because that sodding train hasn't come. I figure Death is going to want his shit and come for it soon enough."

Sirius blinked. "Wait, wait. You are telling me you took the fast broom straight into the Dead Book in order to avoid an unwanted marriage?" Sirius placed a paternal hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'd be proud of you, I guess, well, I guess I'd sympathize because I'd be tempted to do the same myself, but…"

Harry threw up his hands in disgust. "It isn't always about ME, Sirius! I took a long walk off a short bridge for Hermione and Ron." Harry tore away from Sirius, and began pacing the length of the platform, his voice rising with each sentence. "Their happiness is bloody well more important than my own! I'm damn well not going to let Hermione's freedom and future get thrown away by those bastards. My life is over. Fine, I accepted that after my fifth year. Hell, I got to live two weeks after Tom died, great! That's two weeks longer than I should have." Harry was almost screaming. "Thank Merlin for 'Til death do us part!' She's free, Ron's still with her! Hermione'll get over me soon enough, hell Ron'll prolly be happier with me gone!" Now Harry was screaming, causing Sirius to wilt. "It doesn't matter what I want! I didn't do this for myself! So no, it's not bloody brilliant!"

"Merlin's bollocks pup, you honestly believe that." Sirius said in a soft, sad voice. "Dumbledore really did a number on you, didn't he?" Sirius glanced at Snape inquisitively. "He really does believe that Ron and Hermione would be happier that Harry took a dirt nap instead of sticking around living and married." Sirius let out a long low whistle and then turned to face his godson. "Bugger, pup, that's not right."

Snape nodded, but didn't stop smiling.

"So why are you still smiling like that, Snape?" Harry asked pointedly. "Are you happy that you manage to kill me? Are you enjoying my pathetically stupid emotional immaturity?"

Amazingly, Snape's smile grew wider and more wicked. "I'm smiling, Harry, because I'm not finished."

"Eh?" Harry and Sirius asked simultaneously.

"Tell me, have you ever heard of True Bonding?"

"Eh?" Harry and Sirius echoed.

Snape sneered down at them. "Your ignorance no longer surprises me. Can't answer a simple question without Hermione, can you Potter?"

Harry bristled. "Snape, even dead you make arsehats look like the Queen mum."

"My heart weeps for the angst-laden arrogant celebrity. Now grow silent and stop proving that Merlin wasted a perfectly good arse when he gave you teeth."

Sirius growled, leaping to the defense of his godson. "Snivellus, shut your mouth or I'll…"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Kill me? Too late, and done by a better man than you! What, no witty retort from the flea-bitten mutt?"

Sirius growled. "I'll bloody well hump your leg for eternity."

"As a dog," Snape asked in a flat voice, "or as a man?"

The three shuddered in unison.

"Right, um, how about we all agree to hold an intelligent, peaceful conversation bereft of acts that will scar my soul?" Harry asked.

Snape and Sirius stared at each other for a moment in disgust. "Agreed," they said after a moment.

"Um, yeah… alright, you were talking about True Bonding while smiling like Riddle at a puppy-stomping convention?" Harry asked.

Sirius interrupted before Snape could answer. "Personally, I thought he was smiling like a Malfoy at a baby-ra…"

"Sirius!" Harry shouted.

"Are the two of you quite done reminding me that your cognitive functions barely achieve the alacrity of a stillborn troll?" Snape asked archly.

"No, not quite," Sirius replied. Harry smacked his godfather aside the head and stared expectantly at his former potions professor.

Snape began pacing as he started lecturing. "The ancient ritual of True Bonding is widely considered to be the strongest and most honorable form of ritual betrothal and marriage." Sirius's eyelids began to droop. "Many scholars of ancient lore suspect that the recipients of a True Bond share not only their magic, but all beneficial charms, inheritances, abilities and sundries." Sirius's head lowered and jerked back up. "According to _Ye Most Eldritch and Harmonious Joinings_ Merlin himself supposed that a successful True Bonding would allow the fortunate couple to understand each other at a level that surpassed even the most long-lived of marriages." Sirius let out a little snore. "The general rarity of the ritual precludes a more in-depth understanding of its effects. The reasons for the rarity are the great cost and rarity of the components and the…"

"Wait!" Harry snapped. "So you're telling me that you don't know exactly what True Bonding does either?"

Snape sneered in response. "Of course not, you nitwit, what part of rare and unheard-of did you find too difficult to grasp?"

"The 'Lets bloody well do this to Harry' part to great greasy gibbering git!"

"Hmm, yes, that could be a possible problem for you, couldn't it?" Snape's sneer transformed into a smile, "Thankfully I know something that makes the current situation rather bearable overall."

"And what, exactly, is that?" Harry asked spitefully.

Snape smiled wickedly. "It didn't happen to me."

"I hate you." Harry deadpanned. "I truly hate you. I thought I hated Tom, but I was wrong. That feeling pales next to the gargantuan hatred I feel for you."

"I kind of have to agree with Severus on that point, pup."

"Shut up, Sirius, you aren't helping. Snape, did I mention I hate you?

Snape sneered. "Then I have finally fulfilled my purpose in life. Oh, wait, that was to help an utterly useless yet petulant child defeat a great and powerful dark wizard. The hatred is only a pleasant bonus."

"I. Hate. You. I detect a small problem with your scheme, Snape." Harry said.

"Oh? Did you now? What would that problem be, Potter?" Snape drawled.

"In case you missed the obvious, I am quite dead. So, does this True Bonding have the miraculous and previously unheard-of ability to resurrect the dearly departed?" Harry asked.

"Of course not, Potter, what do you think this is a fairy tale for children?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Thusly returning us to the crux of the discussion: I am dead, ergo…" He looked at Sirius.

"There is no marriage, only Zu'ul."

"Exactly," Harry said triumphantly. "Wait." Harry stared blankly at Sirius. "I thought you were in Azkaban when that movie came out?"

"Lily showed it to me last year."

"Oh. Right. Wait, you've seen my mum?"

"Yeah pup. She's really proud of you."

Harry smiled sadly. "I'm glad." His face scrunched up in confusion. "So why are you here and she's not?"

Sirius shrugged. "Dunno pup. Maybe it's because you jumped through the Veil instead of jumping off a cliff?"

"Eternity cannot compare to the vast wasteland that is this conversation. You were saying, Potter?" Snape interrupted.

Harry sighed in defeat. "Tell me professor, where does your brilliant plan to play all bugger with my life deal with the fact that you drove me to suicide?" He asked dryly.

"Oh, your suicide was part of the plan."

"Wonderful! How bloody fantastic is that!" Harry snapped irritably. "Should I call you Albus?" He said with bile. "Who's next in the 'Lets drive Harry to suicide for the good of the world' train? Or is it some mysterious attribute picked up when one becomes the headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"How droll, still whining about your betters. Your suicide had an important purpose. It completed the True Bonding ritual."

"Amazing!" Harry was spitting out each word. "Outstanding! How the bloody hell do you factor on getting around the fact that I am no longer qualified for marriage due to my being DEAD without some Deus Ex Machina resurrection power of the True Bonding?"

Snape smiled ominously at Harry. "I'm not getting around it at all."

Harry's eyebrow rose. "Really," Harry drawled dryly, "you aren't?"

"No, **I'm** not."

Harry groaned in frustration.

"It's time to learn, Potter, that some people might actually find some use for you despite Voldemort's demise."

"Oh no. You are NOT counting on…" Harry shook his head in denial.

"Oh yes, Potter, oh yes indeed." Snape nodded with glee.

"Bugger. Can't a bloke just rest in piece?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

The Burrow:

Hermione's mind raced about drawing connections and inferences from every sentence in Snape's letter. Even as she read further along she matched her personal observations of Harry's behavior with the revealed causality, her cognitive processes working in tandem with subconscious recollections allowed her to fully masticate and ingest the repugnant vicissitudes superimposed onto Harry's childhood. All in all, she discerned that the unfolding revelations deposited a most unpleasant taste on her metaphorical tongue. She felt trepidation stalking her like a mischievous feline. Unwilling to let her recalcitrant subconscious hinder her progress, she continued to read Snape's communiqué.

_The sincerity with which Albus asked that question frightens me to this day. I myself took the standard Slytherin approach. In fact, my obvious hatred of Harry Potter from day one is proof of my disloyalty to the Dark Lord. If I were truly Voldemort's loyal follower I would have been a sympathetic caring father who gently exploited Dumbledore's machinations into crafting another fanatical follower. No, I knew of what needed to be done, and I allowed myself to function as another demonstration of the inevitable cruelty of life._

_Enough with the digression. The point is Dumbledore genuinely wanted Harry Potter to find happiness after Voldemort's defeat. Unfortunately, Harry Potter's damage destroyed the two main attributes needed for a contented adulthood: Self-determination and love._

_Allow me to clarify exactly what the consequences of Albus' manipulations are on Harry's ability to forge his own future. First, unlike many teenagers, Harry Potter does not suffer from a muddled vision of the future; rather he has no concept or capability of visualizing one at all. Even his plan of joining the aurors after Hogwarts is indicative. One may believe that it represents Harry Potter's desire to aide others, but in truth it is nothing but a simple extension of his current life. It was not a future to achieve; it was the closest approximation of the present he could find that would satisfy his instructors._

_His honest answer for a future career would have been 'corpse'._

_The second necessity for Harry Potter's future happiness is, of course, love. I can hear your annoying Weasley scoffing as I write. Ah, yes, I'm sure your red little heads would prefer to place me as some virginal Madonna. You are, of course, wrong. Professor Sinistra is__** delicious**_

Hermione rolled her eyes at the loud cries of disgust that erupted from the Weasley men, Arthur included. She smiled a bit maliciously as she read the next line.

_I will pause to allow you to finish screaming._

'I always could trust Professor Snape to understand the weaknesses of his audience,' she thought.

_Simply put, Albus Dumbledore was a faultless scholar in innumerable fields; however, he was a piss poor student of the human heart. Perhaps it was his years of presiding over shallow teenage melodrama that warped his understanding of the basic elements of a successful relationship. Whatever possessed him to think facile hero-worship combined with brief midnight snoggings and the single common interest in a sport functioned as the epitome of a solid couple amazed me. Furthermore, that he could possibly have been filled with such self-deception as to believe that a pair of children whose greatest common interest lay in mutually assured destruction epitomized a healthy relationship made me boggle. The very concept of coupling a radically liberal witch with both the potential and the ambition of Albus Dumbledore with a boy who did not even possess the wherewithal to rectify his pathetic study habits when his best friend faced the single most dangerous wizard of our time would turn the stomach of a Hippogryph. It was more loathsome than muggle sit-coms._

_Of course, the fact that the so-called 'Most Brilliant Witch of our Generation' also felt that she properly applied her affections does lend some support to the theory that Albus Dumbledore was not an abject retard when it came to human understanding. I disagree. I feel they both deserve such a distinguished title._

Hermione huffed, affronted, while Ron shouted implications that Professor Snape's ancestry consisted of female dogs and over-amorous flobberworms. She found herself in a rare concurrence with her significant other. 'How dare Professor Snape say that about me? He sounds just like my mother!' She gritted her teeth and continued reading the insulting diatribe, wondering if the spawn of two unwed hounds would ever reach the apex of its missive.

_At first I thought that _Miss._ Granger's immature attraction to the single male who so properly defined her opposite was the most incredible machination that Albus Dumbledore ever wrought. It brilliantly destroyed any hope that Harry Potter might throw off the conditioning placed upon him. I watched her practically run Harry Potter's life while simultaneously destroying his confidence in his own abilities. Her denial of Harry Potter and her fascination with Mr. Weasley added the final stroke to a plot sixteen years in the crafting. I watched as her actions eroded any pride or self-confidence remaining in him. To elicit such trust, confidence, and need in Harry Potter while simultaneously denying him the basic dignity of feeling desired… it made me wish, not for the first time, that she'd been sorted into Slytherin._

_Imagine my shock and horror when I discerned that neither Albus nor _Miss._ Granger had intentionally chosen this action._

_I have never been so disappointed in my life. I wondered, if only for a brief moment, if _Miss._ Granger was so utterly imbecilic as to partially fancy Draco. It would not have surprised me, as he was the only other boy in Hogwarts who so constantly belittled her. Coupling her unsavory traits with the most unfortunate Weasley predilection towards early matrimony made me positively nauseous._

_Albus Dumbledore asked me if Harry would be happy, after he finished the job that we could not. I told him the truth. No. Then he tasked me with the most entertaining assignment I've ever had the fortune to encounter._

_He told me to fix his mistakes._

_So I did._

Hermione looked up from the letter and nervously met Ron's eyes. Her trepidation grew from a mischievous kitten into a rabid Nundu.

_Ginerva Weasley, even though I doubt you will accept it, you have my apologies and condolences. You acted as a true Slytherin to achieve your goal. Unfortunately, it ill served your intended. My guilt is only assuaged by the fact that your ability to fulfill your desires is unhindered by the revelations to follow. I would suggest inspecting the possibilities that lay in Mr. Longbottom. Despite his earlier fuddling, I sincerely believe that, upon getting laid, the lad will quickly ascend to become the Minister of Magic._

Now Ginny mirrored Hermione and Ron's nervous faces.

_At nine o' clock this morning, the current Minister of Magic discovered a document appearing on her desk. When the Minister read said document, they discovered that Albus Dumbledore, in his position as the magical guardian for both _Miss._ Granger and Mr. Potter, entered the pair into a binding legal betrothal. Furthermore, the Minister determined that the betrothal was due to expire in the expected fashion at nine o' clock in the morning fourteen days after the final defeat of the Dark Lord._

Molly, Bill and Arthur gasped in shock. "Er, mum, what does 'expired in the normal fashion' mean?" Ron asked in a squeaky voice.

"Um… well… you see, son… when a betrothal expires… um… in the normal fashion…" Mr. Weasley stuttered.

Molly winced at her husbands fumbling. She looked at Hermione with sorrowful eyes. "What your father is trying to say is that the normal expiration of a formal betrothal contract means that the pair is formally registered both legally and magically as married."

"Excuse me?" Hermione screeched. "You are telling me that useless old coot and his baby-sodomizing lapdog married us? Without us knowing?" She screeched and sputtered almost frothing with incoherent rage. The rest of the Weasley clan found themselves dumbfounded by both deeds done as well as Hermione's language.

Arthur coughed. "I hate to say this, but there is more written." He winced at the concept and his family's reaction.

"Fine, lets finish this garbage," Hermione spat. "And where the bloody Hell is Harry?"

_Not to worry, the fact that you all received this letter means that Mr. Potter decided to take it upon himself to end the contract in the usual manner._

Hermione sighed in relief. She looked up at the Weasley parents to see if they'd read the same thing she had. When she saw their pale and shocked faces, she become rather anxious. "Um, Mrs. Weasley, Harry just got a quick annulment, right? It's not so big a deal, is it? He didn't have to do anything stupid, did he?"

Mrs. Weasley hiccoughed, unable to answer. Mr. Weasley walked over and placed a consoling hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Hermione, there's only one way out of a formalized betrothal marriage in the wizarding world. You see, these documents were used to solidify two old and powerful families for political purposes. The only way out is…" Arthur trailed off, unable to complete his sentence. Hermione looked down at the letter and read the next line.

_Considering Mr. Potter's likely location when he heard the news, I'm suspecting he decided the best course of action lay in throwing himself bodily through the Veil. How utterly predictable…_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

Hermione tried to continue reading her letter, but the words disappeared into a blurry swirl. Ron gave up a few minutes ago and had his hands wrapped around his head as he sobbingly choked out, "Why mate, why?" Molly, Arthur and Ginny wailed in tandem hugging each other for comfort. Hermione fiercely wiped away her tears and kept reading.

…_which brings us to our current point._

_I didn't write this to taunt you. Merlin knows Fawkes wouldn't have agreed to deliver these missives if I had._

Miss._ Granger, of the many people who have received this letter I would expect you are the only one who's heard of a True Bonding._

_Yes, I can picture your face entering its insufferable know-it-all expression. In fact, I'm almost positive you've already puzzled out who the three sacrifices are._

_For the rest of you, I'll explain. A True Bonding is a marriage ritual that dates back to the founding of magic. It was used for kings and chieftains, and very rarely at that. The reasoning behind its scarcity is the cost. First, the two participants must have an incredibly strong emotional bond, forged in the crucible of war. Second, the initiating ritual requires many difficult components including dragon's blood, phoenix tears, basilisk venom, and the shards of a broken horcrux. One's mind boggles at the fortuitous availability of the rarest objects, doesn't it _Miss._ Granger? Finally, and most crippling, the ritual requires three wizards to sacrifice their lives for the happiness of one of the Bonded._

_Albus Dumbledore, knowing that death awaited him eagerly agreed to lend his life as the first sacrifice. My spell did not kill Albus; he was dead an instant before it landed._

_I, Severus Snape, knowing that I too bore the burden of guilt for Harry's broken life, agreed to be the second. Chances are I died in much the same fashion as Albus._

_Finally, without knowing that he was completing the ritual, Harry Potter sacrificed his own life in order to assure that Hermione Granger could find her own happiness._

_The best part, the part that makes my Slytherin heart flutter, is the delicious knowledge of the inevitability of my decisions for his life. Had Harry Potter simply accepted the contract he would have married _Miss._ Granger in the standard wizarding way. Since he sacrificed his life for her happiness, he's completed the strongest marriage ritual known to the wizarding world. Nothing makes a Slytherin happier than a scheme where all possible paths lead to the same conclusion._

_It would seem that there is a fatal flaw in my scheme: Harry Potter's death precludes his marriage to _Miss._ Granger; however, I know there is a certain confluence of events that lead to the downfall of the Dark Lord. Most likely, _Miss._ Granger is the only living being who knows exactly what I am referring to. For the sake of the world, do not question her further. I trust that she will determine the proper course of action… _

* * *

The Ministry of Magic:

The Minister stared blankly at the letter in her hands. She re-read the last words, attempting to glean some sense out of them.

…_and that is why I had no worries about Harry Potter being the third sacrifice. Hopefully, in the future _Miss._ Granger's influence will prevent him from making a habit out of self-sacrifice._

_Soon it will be time for the tearful reunion. Before this occurs, I have one final request of you:_

_Take care of the boy. He's suffered horror after horror so that the rest of the world could hope. He's died so that other people can live and find happiness. I'm a cold and cruel man, but not heartless. I've attached detailed logs of the damage Harry has suffered magical and mundane, and cataloged treatments for as many as I could. Do not grow angry because he died for _Miss._ Granger's happiness. His actions were the inevitable conclusion to the harsh necessity of Albus Dumbledore's war._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape_

She stared at the letter for a long time, silently contemplating the revelations contained within. Finally she let out a long low whistle. 'I'm impressed,' she thought, 'I never guessed that Dumbledore was capable of such acts.' Unconsciously, she nodded her head. 'The man truly deserved respect, he did what he thought was necessary without lying to himself about the cost. If, somehow, Mr. Potter returns I believe I shall reverse my previous decision to allow him to enter Auror training without taking the requisite NEWTs. His mindset may have allowed him to defeat Voldemort, but it will get his fellow aurors killed. I won't force him to return to Hogwarts, but if he still wants to enter the program he'll have to pass the tests like the rest of us. That should, at least, give him some time to clear out the mess they made of his mind.' Sorrowfully, the Minister turned to the aurors behind her.

"You saw nothing. You know nothing. If you are worried that the events that just occurred may leak from your control, please request obliviation immediately. If word of this hits the press, I will personally have your asses. Understood?"

The group nodded solemnly.

"Excellent. Return to your posts. I was simply confirming the upkeep of the chamber. That is all."

* * *

The Burrow:

The gathered company all shook their heads in shocked horror. Each person read and re-read parts of the letter making sure that the words really said what they thought they said. Finally, almost as one, the clan looked up to see what Hermione was feeling. They blinked in confusion over her absence until they heard her voice cry out from the fireplace, "Hogwarts Headmistress's Office." The roar of flames announced her departure.

Ron looked up at the shocked faces of his family. "What, you're surprised that Hermione rushed off to the library to research the latest crisis? I'd be worried if she hadn't. Don't worry, she'll find out what we need to do. She always does."

Reassured, the Weasley clan fell into a quiet discussion about the information that Snape revealed. Ron slunk quietly into the living room, sadly awaiting Hermione's return and the news that he was alone once again.

* * *

Hogwarts Library:

Hermione sat at her table, concealed behind piles of books. A large tome titled _Ye Most Eldritch and Harmonious Joinings_ was opened in front of her. Her head was buried in her arms and great sobs wracked her body. The letter that Professor Snape sent her contained many pointed, searing and worst of all accurate assessments of her flaws. Her old potions instructor skillfully dissected her motivations, desires, actions and arguments. The whole thing was made even more painful by the honest care and admiration she found in her old teacher's words. Hermione sobbed, utterly confused by the swirling menagerie of miseries. Unwillingly her mind played over the passage written just for her.

Miss._ Granger, in some ways I am grateful for the opportunity in death to tell you things I could never say while I lived:_

_I have never taught a student as gifted and determined as you. Your brilliance is only matched by your motivation. I am truly sorry that I will not live to see you outshine my own meager contributions to magic. Despite my outward attitude I enjoyed teaching you. I am proud of your accomplishments._

_That having been said, I must repeat that your decisions leave much to be desired. I am not Albus Dumbledore. I will not guide you to self-discovery through Socratic mumblings. _

_For all of your brilliance, you failed to overcome the basic stupidity inherent in teenage witches. Your taste in men is pathetically cliché and self-destructive. Worse yet, you are utterly clueless about the damage you have done._

_Do you know why Albus made Mr. Weasley prefect instead of Harry? He was needlessly concerned that you would manage to heal the boy enough to jeopardize his entire plan. Indeed, _Miss._ Granger, you were and most likely still are the only person that Harry fully trusts. _

_You repaid his trust by rejecting him in the most fundamental manner. Like the headmaster, you badgered Harry to do what you thought was best without sparing a single worry over the pain it caused him. You showed him greater concern than any other person in his life yet not once did you let the boy feel he was worthy of another's desire. Indeed you were quite willing to create and destroy his relationships, but you made it quite clear that a boy who constantly enraged and disregarded you deserved your affections more than Harry. If you were a Slytherin, I would again commend your brilliance in making him utterly dependant on you without risking any emotional harm yourself._

_Like most witches your age, you only want boys who hurt and ignore you. I think it's pathetic and disgusting how you simper over the cretins. I was deeply disappointed to discover you weren't as exceptional as I'd hoped. On the other hand, Albus was very pleased with your behavior this year. It ensured that Harry knew that, in the end, you cared less for his happiness than for your own. He always tended to agree with your opinions about the important matters, didn't he _Miss._ Granger?_

Hermione struggled to find some flaw in Snape's assessment. She wracked her mind for reasons why she never thought of Harry as desirable. She winced as she remembered her behavior during her sixth year. She cried as she realized that Harry would always choose her over any other person in his life, and what that would have done to his future relationships. She wept as she couldn't bring herself to want him. She sobbed when she started to hate him.

* * *

Beyond the Veil:

"So what do I do now, Snape?" Harry asked.

"You wait. I tire of these surroundings." Upon Snape's statement, the platform disappeared into a swirling grey mist. Slowly, the fog coalesced into a perfect replica of Snape's personal potions laboratory. "Much better. While we wait, I will attempt to continue your instruction in the subtle nuances of advanced potions."

"Why?" Harry asked. "I thought you hated teaching me anything?"

"I do. Your inept fumbling gives me a migraine; however, I will not tolerate your continued ignorance while I have the capability of rectifying it. Hopefully it will dispel some of the tedium until you return to life. I do hope that Miss. Granger will perform the correct action soon. Teaching you for eternity is as close to Hell as I can imagine."

Harry glared at Snape. "I did get an E on my potions OWL. You can stop insulting me." Harry's eyes narrowed and then he looked down at his feet. "I did earn an E on my potions OWL, right? Dumbledore didn't find some way to cheat for me?"

Snape sneered. "Mr. Potter, why would you come to that conclusion?"

"He wanted me to strike up a friendship with Professor Slughorn in order to verify the horcrux theory. I'm certain he was willing to change my scores in order to ensure that happened. He gave me your old textbook for that reason."

Snape's sneer softened. "I see that you do have some Slytherin buried under all that boorish Gryffindor after all. You earned your E, Potter, most likely to spite me."

Harry sighed. "Well I suppose I can take pride in that." He looked around. "Hey, where did Sirius go?"

"I don't particularly care. He's probably sniffing an arse somewhere." Snape pulled a textbook off of one of the many dusty shelves in the room. He handed the book to Harry, who took it reluctantly. "Now, open this book to page one-hundred and thirty-two. You will take note that…"

* * *

The Burrow Garden:

It hadn't taken long for Ron to brood himself into irritable crabbiness. Unable to sit and take the pitying stares, he grumbled and snapped until his mother shooed him outside to "Make use of his nervousness constructively in the garden."

Ron took savage solace from his thoughts by chucking terrified gnomes in the direction of Luna's ruined home. He couldn't believe what he'd just found out. Only two weeks passed after finally finishing off Voldemort and all of his plans and hopes just got chucked out the window. He thought he was finally getting somewhere with Hermione, that they'd work, and that bloody greasy git managed to screw him out of it! Not only that, but he found out that his best mate killed himself so he and Hermione'd have a chance at it. How was he supposed to feel about that? How was he supposed to feel about the fact that Harry could be brought back to life, but that means that he'd lose Hermione? It was horrible. It was lose one or lose both.

He hoped Hermione would let Harry stay dead. That made him feel like a horrible prat. He growled in frustration and vented himself on a helpless potato-looking critter. Watching its tiny body vanish over the fencing gave no comfort. He was so enthralled he missed the soft sounds of footsteps behind him.

"Hey Ron," he jumped at his sister's voice. "I couldn't take mum either."

Ron gave his sister a glowering shrug.

"Don't even start with me." Ginny said in a low and dangerous tone.

"What?" Ron snapped.

"That's so bloody typical of you, Ron. You think that you've got it the worst no matter what. It's just like my bloody first year all over again. Ignore Ginny because she couldn't possibly be hurting."

The intense bitterness in her voice caused Ron to stop in mid-glower.

"Yeah, that's right. Look, you're pretty screwed, yeah I get that. Try dealing with this shit from my side. You either get your best mate back or keep your girlfriend. Me? I'm just arse out of luck no matter which way things go. Hermione brings back Harry and I lose him. Hermione decides having a go," she said the next words with complete contempt. "at the relationship is worth Harry staying dead I lose him." Frustration and sorrow laced her words. "She's too selfish to share him, you know that, right? Even if she decides that the marriage is a sham and she goes off with other guys she'll never let him do the same. I mean, I was stupidly lucky she decided that she'd share Harry with me. She sure as hell didn't share him with Cho. Snape was right, you know, I couldn't have handled how damaged he was. I'm sure Hermione'd have taken him away from me eventually."

Ron sputtered at his sister incoherently, reddening.

"Ron, get over yourself. I roomed with Hermione for five years. I think I would know if she ever felt anything for Harry. She didn't! She practically handed him to me on a silver platter because she didn't want him to be lonely while she, Merlin knows why, tried to land your thick arse. I knew for a fact that the day she didn't think I was good enough for Harry we would be over. Now, now I'm scared because Hermione is so bloody stubborn I really think that she's gonna let Harry stay dead. Do you know how horrible that is? Shouldn't I hate her, hate you? Don't think that you've got it the worst! Don't you dare!"

Ron's fraternal instincts quickly overcame his personal angst. He grab his sister into a huge hug. "I'm so sorry, Ginny, I'm so sorry. You're right, Ginny, you're right." Ginny wept into his shoulder.

From the kitchen window, Molly looked at her children. One hand rose up and softly touched the glass. Arthur stood, embracing his wife from behind.

* * *

The Burrow:

Hours later, Hermione stepped out of the floo looking disheveled and distraught. She glanced around taking in the expectant faces of the Weasley family. Her eyes stopped at Ron's, trying to read his feelings. She looked down at her feet ashamed.

"I… I didn't find anything useful." She said in a soft defeated tone. She shuffled her feet while the rest of the Weasley clan sobbed in dismay. Hermione walked over to one of the rag-tag chairs and slumped into it. She sat motionless, staring at her hands. Eventually the room emptied, and she let herself cry.

She started at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. Looking up in surprise she gazed blankly at Ron's face. His face was uncommonly serious, and his eyes bored into her own. "Hermione, I'm not the most sensitive bloke but I can tell when you are lying."

She stuttered a bit and looked down at her hands. Her teeth worried her lip as she flushed from guilt. Ron left his hand on her shoulder and waited for her to respond. After a few minutes, he gave up and continued.

"This isn't like you," he said. "Would you really rather Harry stay dead than…"

"What do you think?" she snapped weakly.

"I don't bloody well know. I honestly expected to see both of you come out of the fireplace. After everything I thought, you know… that you'd…"

"Just drop everything and everybody to save Harry? Go gallivanting off heroically without a thought to the consequences? Ron, that was Harry's job, not mine."

Ron winced. "So he's past-tense already?" Ron snapped.

"Ron, don't do this to me! Not now!" she sobbed. Ron knelt down to sit on the arm of the chair so he could keep looking in her eyes. "I can't take this. I can't do this. My whole future… you… me… Harry… Ginny… I don't know what to do! When I thought he'd died the first time it killed me. I felt like something precious had been stolen. At that moment I didn't care about the prophecy, Voldemort, anything at all. It was horrible." She cried for a bit until she managed to bring herself back in control. "When I found out he was still alive it was the most wonderful feeling. The world was right again, and I knew that we would win. Ron, I thought it would all be over after Voldemort died!"

Ron held her as she sobbed. "I did too, Hermione, I did too."

She coughed a few times and wiped her nose on Ron's sleeve. "Hey!" he cried out with a weak grin. She barely managed give him her own tremulous smile. "He killed himself so we could have a chance to be together. Harry died because Snape and Dumbledore decided yet again that they were more qualified to run Harry's life than Harry. What should I do, Ron? He died so we could be together… "

Ron shook his head sadly. "Hermione, I don't think that's my call to…"

"Why not?" Hermione interrupted. "Do I mean that little to you?"

Ron paled as he realized he'd fallen into a verbal trap. 'Women…' he thought to himself. "That's not it at all and you know it Hermione! I'm not the one who's going to be bloody well married – you know, for life? – if he comes back. I fancy you, Hell, I might even love you, but right now we can go on or you can leave and it's still our choice. If he comes back you don't have that choice. So, what the Hell am I supposed to say? He's my best mate, damn it. I miss him. I want to bitch about Quidditch with him. I'm selfish, okay, I don't want to lose either of you but I have to, don't I?"

Hermione sighed and placed her hand gently on Ron's cheek. "Am I a horrible person because I don't want him back? Am I a horrible person because I want to bring him back, even though he killed himself to avoid trapping me? I hate this. I hate not knowing what to do. I'm scared I'm starting to hate him and that just makes me feel like I'm the most terrible witch that ever lived. I don't know what to do, Ron, and it hurts."

Ron sat with his girlfriend in silence contemplating the movements of the flames. He thought about his dad and mum, Bill and Fleur. He thought about how long it had taken him to realize what he wanted, and how happy he was when he realized that Hermione wanted the same. He felt a bit guilty about the nasty joy that getting Hermione instead of Harry provoked. He thought about his best mates life, the crazy shit they went through together, the fact that without Harry he'd have never given Hermione a second glance. He thought about a future with Hermione, and he thought about a future without Harry. Finally, he grew tired of thinking altogether.

"I guess," he said with a broken voice, "the only real question is 'Should you bring Harry back?'?"

Hermione nodded.

"I figure the only answer is…" he paused, fighting back his feelings.

"Will he be happy?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

Beyond the Veil:

Snape glanced over at his new potions student. The habitual and mundane irritation that Harry showed towards his instructor fueled a venomous scathing anger in Snape. He closed his eyes for a moment and cleared his mind to allow his temper to emphasize his words rather than force them.

"Potter!"

Harry stopped dicing the ginger root in front of him. "Yes, professor?"

"Did you really forgive Albus and myself?"

Harry nodded. "Of course. Why?"

Snape found himself grinding his teeth together. "Really? It's all forgiven then? Even though you know we made your life a living hell and deliberately ensured your pain and isolation?"

"Well, I guess there's still lingering bitterness," Harry shrugged before continuing, "but for the most part, yeah."

"Why?" Snape asked pointedly.

Harry stared at Severus quizzically. "Voldemort is dead." Harry answered in a deadpan voice while looking at Snape like he was a loyal, but stupid, child.

Snape's teeth ground together audibly. "So that justified everything, made it forgivable?" He growled between clenched teeth.

Harry was utterly baffled by the questions. "Of course. I mean, compared to killing that bastard? Yeah, nothing to forgive really."

Severus leaned forward until his face was inches from Harry's. "How dare you." Severus hissed. "How dare you cheapen what our actions into tawdry mischief." Harry blinked in shocked, unable to reply. "Damn you Potter, don't ever pretend that what Albus did was forgivable or right! Our actions were monstrous and as brutally evil as anything Voldemort conceived, if not more so! Don't you DARE forgive us, or justify what we did, or consider your misery fair trade!"

"But… but… I thought I wasn't supposed to be bitter or mad…" Harry stammered.

"You thought wrong!" Snape screamed into Harry's face. He took a deep breath to calm his outrage. Harry froze under the sheer weight of Severus's obsidian eyes. "You were an innocent, Potter,' the potion master's voice was low and dangerous, "and we destroyed that innocence." Snape's eyes narrowed. "You are as worthy of life and happiness as any other wizard and we willingly destroyed that, perhaps permanently, as a calculated maneuver to achieve our end. We knew the inhumanity, the sheer evil of our actions! Do not ever cheapen the sacrifices we made by pretending that what we did was right. Do you understand that, Potter? We didn't do the right thing; we did what was needed! Forgiving us so cheaply insults our humanity, our capacity for evil, the burden of guilt we deserved! If you dare believe that what we did was right because your innocence and happiness were a fair price, then you ridicule every sacrifice made to kill that bastard."

Snape kept his face inches from Harry's. He watched as Harry began breathing faster, he stared into Harry's green eyes searching for proof the boy understood. He inwardly winced at the moisture beginning to form. "Fuck you," Harry said in tight clipped words. "I fucking hate you."

Snape stayed still. "And Dumbledore?"

"Fuck you. I fucking hate both of you. Are you happy now?"

Snape pulled away from Harry. "No you ignorant child, I'm not. What I am is relieved that you still have the capacity to relieve your ignorance. Tell me Potter, why do you think Mr. Weasley abandoned you in a childish snit more than once?"

"Oh, that's easy. He's always felt like he's in my shadow. I guess I can understand that, and it is my fault he gets hurt."

"I could spend happy hours extolling the many failings of Mr. Weasley but that is not the point. Let us accept your opinion as fact for now. It is obvious that you have nothing but contempt for him."

Harry blinked. "Excuse me? Ron's my best mate. Where do you get off saying I hold him in contempt?"

"Your actions prove you consider him to be an incorrigible brat." Snape drawled. "Tell me, when Mr. Weasley regained his senses and returned to your side what did you do?"

"I forgave him." Harry shrugged. "He's my best mate. I need him by my side."

"If you needed him by your side," Snape drawled, "you wouldn't have accepted his apologies so quickly."

"I never would expect a slimy Slytherin to understand the value of loyalty." Harry spat back.

"Boy, I have a greater respect and admiration for loyalty than you could possibly comprehend because I am a Slytherin!" Snape sneered down at Harry with his voice dripping in familiar contempt. "A Slytherin knows exactly the price and benefit of loyalty because of its scarcity and power! We know quite well the cost of betrayal; only pathetic fools squander trust mindless of the cost!"

Harry unconsciously leaned back from the outburst. "I… I never thought about it that way."

"Of course not, that would have required you to put forth a modicum of mental effort," replied Snape's contemptuous tones. "Your actions prove you put desperate stock in loyalty but you have concept of the price. That is exactly why you have been abandoned by both of you 'best' mates for whatever minute distraction prevailed itself upon them."

"That is a load of bollocks, professor," Harry growled, "and you know it. Yeah Ron shoved his head into it a couple times but it was only a couple times, and Hermione never left me, sure she didn't help me much my sixth year but I can't blame her after I pretty much proved how stupid I was the year before!"

"Proving Hermione would understand our discussion while you do not!" Snape stared harshly into Harry's defiant gaze. "Mr. Weasley's behavior was so utterly predictable that Albus found it necessary to gift the boy with a way around it. Your foolishness only exacerbated his immaturity. I refuse to waste more time on this argument. You mar your friendships because you attach no fee for disloyalty. None."

Harry tried to absorb the change in conversation. "What do you mean I don't attach a fee?"

"Merlin's balls Potter how can you catch the snitch when you are blinder than a thestral's arse?" Snape spat, carefully enunciating each word. "No matter the crime, no matter the slight or betrayal or abandonment you accept the simplest and emptiest apology! If you do not demand at least some form of recompense or punishment from people for hurting you, then you are stating that you don't value loyalty enough to demand tribute for betrayal! Did Miss. Granger embrace and forgive Mr. Weasley as easily as you?" Harry shook his head. "Did Albus forgive me immediately when I drug my worthless arse to him looking for redemption?" Harry shook his head again. "That is correct you stubbornly ignorant boy! Albus trusted me more than any other because of the price I paid for my betrayal, a price I continued to pay until my death! Do not forgive Albus's betrayal so freely! The destruction of Voldemort was simply the rectification of mistakes he helped make, an invoice earned long before your birth! In the same manner, no longer forgive Mr. Weasley's betrayals so cheaply if you truly consider him a man!"

Snape paused to consider something, and then sneered contemptuously at Harry. "Or is it something else? Perhaps you forgive everybody so easily because you are too cowardly to face the pain? Maybe you would rather wallow in an easy and habitual misery rather than having the courage to accept the truth?"

"Sod off you sorry sack of shit," Harry growled in reply. "What about this damn marriage and bonding thing then?" Harry spat back. "So I shouldn't forgive that either?"

"Of course not," Snape riposted, "until you are forced to acknowledge that knew better than you and you find happiness regardless of how stubbornly you struggle against that! Now that we are on the topic of your future, please tell me you don't suffer from the same overbearing sense of moral superiority that plagued Albus."

"You never stop, do you? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I suspect it's a trait suffered by all Gryffindors. Tell me, Potter, what do you plan to do with the Hallows when you return to life?"

"If I return to life, you mean. I was planning on ending this mess with the bloody Elder Wand. I'm going to keep the cloak, I've already ditched the stone in the Forbidden Forest, and I'm planning on returning the Elder Wand to Dumbledore's grave!"

Snape inhaled sharply. "You bloody imbecile! What, you expect that the next aspiring Dark Lord is going to share the same aversion to research as yourself? Are you honestly so naïve as to think that an individual aspiring to bloody genocide is going to balk at a little grave robbery?" Snape paced to and fro while loudly ranting. "Even if you manage to hide the bloody things well enough, are you so callous that you will stand back and allow easily preventable destruction to occur because you lack the fortitude to accept the bloody responsibility inherent in your power?" He stopped pacing and glared at Harry. "Damn you Potter, if Albus had the balls to take care of both Grindelwald and Voldemort as soon as their true natures became apparent how many lives could he have saved? Albus shares culpability in your parents' deaths because he was so smug in his righteousness he shirked culling the wicked before they could do immeasurable harm!"

"I didn't ask for this!" Harry shouted back.

"It doesn't matter what you asked for!" Severus spat in response. "If you don't use the tools given then any crimes you could have prevented are partially yours! If you don't have the capability to herd the sheep Potter, at least put a mad dog down before the infection spreads! That was Albus' greatest failing! He refused to stop the rot until the house had already collapsed!" Snape glared at Harry. "For all of her blind fanaticism, at least Miss. Granger had the will to change what she saw as wrong!"

"But what's going to keep me from being just as bad as a Dark Lord then?" Harry asked quietly.

Snape growled in frustration. "Well, if you could find the power to extract your head from your arse on occasion it should be pretty bloody obvious, even to you. If you want to avoid becoming a tyrant, only strike at evil that has shown its colors. At least then you will have some comfortable cushioning from your guilt. I'm certain Miss. Granger continue to correct any perceived shortcomings in your judgment."

"That's for bloody sure," Harry grumbled under his breath. Deciding he wanted nothing more than the end of the conversation, Harry focus his attentions on the textbooks opened before him. He let the mind-numbing minutia smother his bile-laden anger until he was calm enough to look at Snape without the urge to scream.

* * *

The Burrow:

Ginny sat impatiently in her room waiting for her best female friend. She huffed a few times, growing even more annoyed at the sheer scale of the drama. 'This is stupid,' she thought, 'from beginning to end. It would be nice if we can get this over with so I can go have a good cry over losing Harry without the interruption of all this other nonsense.' She almost grinned at the thought. 'Really, I'm being cheated out of a perfectly good break-up again. Harry can't even get it right the second time.'

Her musings were interrupted by the sniffling entrance of her bushy-haired buddy. Ginny barely managed to contain the urge to roll her eyes. Her friend looked positively hideous, her eyes red and puffy, her nose red and snotty, her hair brown and bushy. Ginny decided she'd have to intervene before her friend really screwed the pooch and managed to choose dating Ron over bringing Harry back. She stood and carefully lead Hermione to her bed. Sitting down next to her, Ginny pulled Hermione into a supportive hug. She swallowed the need to fidget impatiently while Hermione bawled and blubbered into her nightgown.

Finally Hermione's sobs stopped. She looked up at Ginny with watery eyes. "I'm so sorry this happened Ginny."

"I'm sorry too," Ginny said in comforting tones, "but there's nothing I can do about it." Hermione nodded and she continued. "So, have you made up your mind yet?" Hermione shook her head. Ginny let out a small groan of frustration causing Hermione to glance at her friend warily.

"What?" She asked softly.

"You," Ginny said pointedly.

Hermione blinked owlishly.

Ginny sighed heavily. "Hermione, no matter what I've lost Harry as a boyfriend. Do you really think I put enough stock in your relationship with Ron to think it's worth not having Harry around?"

Hermione huffed a bit in astonishment. "Ginny!"

"Hermione!" Ginny retorted mimicking her. "Okay maybe I'm wrong. Why exactly are you dating my brother anyhow? I can't remember you ever actually saying something nice about him. I mean, I'm really thankful that you helped me get Harry and I was relieved to know you weren't competition or anything. Still, he's Ron for crying out loud."

Hermione sputtered indignantly at her friend. "Ginny, there's lots of good reasons why I'm dating your brother."

Ginny smiled. "Great! What are they?"

"Well, he's cute," Hermione paused as Ginny made a few gagging noises, "Honestly! Just because he's your brother doesn't mean you can't look at him objectively."

Ginny groaned. "Whatever, he's cute, fine, what else?"

"I fancy him."

"And?" Ginny prompted.

"He's funny and loyal." Hermione stated.

Ginny arched her brow. "Then why do you always say his humor is immature and why are you so jealous whenever other girls are around?"

Hermione blushed. "Okay, I guess those aren't the best reasons for us to date. I fancy him though, I really do!"

"I repeat, why?"

Hermione muttered, "I don't know," under her breath.

Ginny smiled triumphantly. "Then your relationship certainly isn't a good enough reason to not get Harry back, is it?"

Hermione sullenly shook her head.

"So you are going to bring him back, right? He might not be my boyfriend anymore but he sure as hell is my friend!" Ginny said.

"It's not that simple," Hermione whined, "I mean there's the whole marriage issue!"

That was enough to make Ginny's Weasley temper snap. She let go of Hermione, stood up, took a pace back and slapped her friend hard enough to cause her head to rock back.

"Ginny!" Hermione screeched.

"Shut up and listen to me! Stop being such a silly little girl! Harry would die for you, Hell I forgot he did! This is how you pay him back? By dithering over how horrible a future tied to Harry is? Listen real good!"

"Well," Hermione corrected automatically.

"Argh! Fine, Listen real well! Lets face it, it doesn't matter who either of you managed to marry you'd be tied together pretty much forever anyhow! I'm probably the only girl in the world who would put up with your relationship to Harry, because you're the closest thing I've got to a sister! Well now it's time for me to tell you what to do! You are going to stop pretending you haven't made up your mind! I know you are bringing Harry back, you just haven't stopped panicking. Well times up! Damn it Hermione; let's leave Ron out of this for a bit. Tell me why you never fancied Harry? I mean, Harry told me, and I believe him, that after my git of a brother decided to shove his head up his arse again, not once did you approach him for comfort. Don't claim it was loyalty to Ron, or me! Harry broke up with me, I wouldn't have gotten mad, and frankly I still don't know why you took the git back! So why didn't you jump his bones just to relieve some stress? Merlin knows the two of you needed it."

Hermione flushed and mumbled, "He's never acted like he wanted me."

Ginny groaned. "Bad excuse girl, I had to practically drag him into the broom closet before he acted like he wanted me. Other than his silly crush my third year I don't think he ever acted like he fancied anybody who didn't practically jump him."

"Well we're no good for each other that way." Hermione said softly. "I annoy him; he thinks I'm an irritating nag. He doesn't understand why I study so hard and it bothers him when I try to make him live up to his potential."

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Like Ron doesn't feel the same way only ten times worse?"

"At least Ron cares enough to argue about it." Hermione muttered.

Ginny's eyes widened in astonishment. "Where in the Hell did you get the idea that blowing up into screaming fits and completely disregarding everything you say shows more respect than griping some and still doing what you say?"

Hermione blushed. "I don't know."

"Neither do I. Damn, girlfriend, that's just stupid. I mean Crabbe and Goyle stupid." Ginny shook her head. "Look, I still think I'm better for Harry than you are but that's not really an issue anymore." She poked her finger into Hermione's shoulder. "Now go to bed and hopefully in the morning you'll stop panicking and bring my friend back!"

Hermione sniffed and nodded.

"And Hermione," Ginny said as she crawled under her blankets, "If you ever hurt him I'll hex you so badly your mother won't recognize you."

Hermione managed a tiny snicker as she disrobed and climbed into her bed. "Alright Ginny I'll remember that," she said softly before closing her eyes. She lay in the silence, trying to find sleep.

* * *

Beyond the Veil:

Harry grumbled as Snape scathingly reviewed the essay on ingredient interaction he'd written. While he'd calmed down enough to tolerate Severus' presence again, he felt like he'd been cooped up in this potions laboratory for weeks. His former professor took unholy glee ruthlessly exploiting the fact that the dead need neither sleep nor sustenance.

"Professor, I think it's quite obvious what Hermione's choice is. I haven't seen the sun in a while but I'm pretty sure we've spent at least a week if not more together in this lab. What's the point of learning so much about potions if I'm just going to stay dead?"

Snape sneered down at Harry. "The point is you aren't going to remain dead Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Um, look, I know that Hermione can take her sweet time researching every possible little thing before she makes up her mind, but there's no way in Hell she'd wait this long if she wanted me back."

"You insist on displaying your ignorance as usual, Potter. I suppose I shall deign to alleviate yet another facet of your scholastic failings. Did it ever occur to you that time might not flow at the same pace in the afterlife? Rather, did it not occur that a sufficiently disciplined mind sets the perception of time? Even you should be able to comprehend that."

Harry grumbled at the insults but reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"Okay, so why exactly are you teaching me potions now? I know you enjoy my company about as much as I enjoy yours, and you've never show the slightest bit of pleasure teaching."

Snape sneered. "You've demonstrated your facility at observing the obvious. Perhaps you would like to demonstrate some modicum of intelligence and tell me why I've never shown any pleasure in your company or education?"

Harry blinked, caught unawares by Severus' response. He didn't fancy hearing any more pointed insults from the professor so he took some time to consider the situation. After a few moments mulling it over he replied, "I suppose that if Voldemort or any other prominent Death Eater heard that you'd shown any joy or sympathy towards individuals they considered enemies the suspicions already cast on you would cause your lifespan to be measured in seconds?"

Severus' sneer lessened as he nodded. "Amazing, yet again you have failed to utterly disappoint me."

Harry bristled under Snape's 'praise'. "You actually enjoy teaching?" Harry asked.

"Rarely, but yes, some students prove themselves capable of furthering the Art. I enjoy the opportunity to secure the future of my chosen field."

"I guess I can understand that. I'm bollocks at potions, though, even without you breathing down my neck. I know you don't expect that I'll ever be good enough to become a master."

Snape's eyebrow rose. "You still haven't managed to grow a descent ego."

Harry's eyebrows disappeared under his hairline. "What? I thought I was a big-headed celebrity positively overflowing with arrogance."

"Potter, stop forcing me to revise my opinion of your intelligence downward. I shudder to think of the categories of imbecility I have remaining. Right now flobberworms are getting offended at my comparisons, and I'm dreadfully tempted to call you Hagrid."

"Don't insult Hagrid!" Harry growled. "Fine, I'm sorry, I get it. You still haven't explained why you are bothering to educate a corpse."

Severus sighed heavily in defeat. "I can see that it will take a stronger wizard than I to bludgeon some self-worth into your miserable little mind. Simply put you will not remain dead."

Harry shook his head. "Hermione doesn't…"

"Whatever that silly witch does or does not do is irrelevant to the conversation!" Harry stared at Snape shocked by his interjection. "You are the master of the Deathly Hallows regardless of whether or not you have them in your possession. You will return to life whenever you will it. Your lovely jaunt into the underworld negated the contract Dumbledore established so you've managed to achieve what you set out to do. As far as Miss. Granger is concerned I know you love her intensely." He glared at Harry daring him to deny it.

Harry nodded, remembering what he said to Ron. "I love her like a sister. That's not exactly…"

"How in Merlin's name can you claim that, Potter? What experience do you have to support your assertion that your feelings are fraternal?"

"Um… well… I…" Harry stammered.

"Let me guess, you don't want to shag her? Is that it? Is she too hideous for even the rather indiscriminate lusts of a teenage boy?" Snape asked archly.

"No!" Harry shouted. "She's not hideous you bloody…"

"Then," Snape spat quickly interrupting Harry's insults, "since you've just admitted that, you either suffer from a repulsive predilection towards incest or you haven't a clue what you are talking about."

"Fine!" Harry spat in frustration. "I don't know what the Hell I'm talking about then. I should have expected you to delight in rubbing the fact that I've never had a family in my face."

Snape sighed in defeat. He looked up at the ceiling. "Merlin, why am I the one left to council the boy?"

Harry shook his head in frustration, and then grinned as a thought crossed his mind. "Professor, what with us being dead and all, you might not want to keep using that name. He might stop by for a kip."

Snape stared pointedly at Harry for a moment, the blinked as he contemplated the words. "You aren't being cheeky, are you?"

Harry shook his head.

The ex-spy groaned. "It might make things easier if he did. Where were we before you rudely diverted the conversation?"

"You were busily insulting Hermione and me, and you were avoiding telling me why you are teaching me."

"Impudent brat. I'm teaching you potions because you will need to pass your NEWTs to become and auror and because I personally feel that some other career would better suit you."

"Isn't it too late for my NEWTs?" Harry asked. "Why do you think that I shouldn't become an auror?"

"Potter, if you don't think that your fame will allow you to complete your seventh year at Hogwarts you are dafter than Mr. Weasley. If you believe that Hermione will allow you and your friends to skive off of completing your education, you have provided ample proof that your intellect rivals that of a particularly dim hunk of masonry."

Harry grumbled but didn't disagree.

"Good, perhaps you can demonstrate the acumen of an obtuse niffler. As for your decision of careers? Tell me, Potter, did you think you'd live long enough to actually undergo training?"

Harry shook his head.

"Precisely. Why did you select to become an auror, then?"

Harry shrugged. "It sort of seemed natural considering what my life's been like up to that point."

"Do you truly wish to spend the rest of your life hunting down Dark Wizards and other miscreants?"

Harry shrugged again. "Never saw much of an alternative. It's the only thing I've ever been good at."

"Bollocks," Snape sneered, "you've demonstrated an almost competent ability for educating your peers. I wouldn't be wasting my time, no matter how limitless it is, forcing information into Mr. Crabbe or Goyle's boorish craniums. What I am doing, Potter, is providing you with the options that Albus could not."

Harry gaped open-mouthed.

Snape favored Harry with a wicked grin. "Don't thank me Potter. All I've done is force you to suffer the burden of making your own choices. Considering your overall lack of experience in the matter, I suspect it will be a most loathsome burden."

Harry gulped, more frightened of a smiling Snape than any future dilemmas. "So, um, if you are so keen on giving me choices for the future, why did you set up the marriage thing, or the True Bonding?"

"Because Albus wanted you to be happy, and I decided that you certainly lacked enough experience in the matter to fulfill his wishes."

Harry sighed, dreading the answer to his final question. He mustered up what courage he could find and looked his professor in the eyes. "Why Hermione?"

Snape gestured towards one of the chairs. Harry sat down. Severus summoned another chair to himself and sat down heavily. For a moment Snape loosened his expression, and Harry saw a weariness he'd only ever seen on Dumbledore.

"Albus said you'd only accept information you found yourself. Something about your Seeker nature. I won't claim to know more than he, so I'll try to use his method. Personally I think its rubbish, but do at least try to demonstrate the virtue of patience. Not that I think you capable of it, but I suppose you've performed enough miracles."

Harry tried not to grind his teeth in irritation.

"I suppose I should try to enjoy the inherent irony of being your councilor in the matters of the heart."

Harry snorted.

Snape made a sour face. "Despite the rumors, Potter, I did have a life outside of my dungeons, a life that included female company."

Harry winced at the mental image of Snape on a date.

Snape smothered a grin as he looked at Potter with stern eyes. "I've even been called a true master in, shall we say, **physical** pleasures."

The look of abject horror that crossed Harry's features nearly broke Snape's carefully maintained expression. Thankfully, the same ability to hide his motives from the ex-dark lord aided him in his endeavor of obfuscating mirth. His dark eyes did twinkle though, once or twice. "Now that we've dispensed with the tedium of establishing my credentials I'll begin this painfully Socratic and inefficient conversation. Tell me, Harry, why did you date Miss. Weasley?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Well, um, she's pretty."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Err, she likes Quidditch, um, she's fun to be around."

"So what made you choose to date her instead of some other girl?"

"Well, um, I got pretty jealous when she was with other guys so I figured that meant I liked her too." Harry continued.

"You liked her too? So you are saying you knew she liked you?"

Harry nodded. "Well, everybody joked about it so it was pretty obvious."

"Hmm… so you dated her because she was pretty, fun, shared a hobby, and liked you?" Snape asked.

"Well, yeah."

"All perfectly sound reasons." Snape concluded.

Harry stared at his professor in shock yet again. "Wait… you mean you are agreeing with me?"

Snape nodded. "I suppose eventually even you can stumble across the correct answer."

"Um, then why did you bugger it all up?"

"Simply put, just because you had perfectly valid reasons to date Miss. Weasley did not mean that you have any concept of what signifies a lasting relationship. Tell me, Harry, did you ever talk about your past or emotions with Miss. Weasley?"

Harry emphatically shook his head.

"Did she ever ask?" Snape asked.

Harry shook his head again. "That's part of why I like her. She doesn't try to force me to tell her things. She trusts me, I guess."

Severus sighed. "You are woefully ill-educated in the mysteries of female behavior."

"Well, yeah. I mean, all blokes are. Isn't that a given?"

"At your age? Most likely. I seem to remember you humiliating yourself with Miss. Chang. Why did you do that?"

Harry blushed. "She's pretty. Yeah, I was rather dumb."

Snape shrugged. "Why did the relationship end?"

"Oh, well, I took her to Madam Puddifoot's on Valentine's day, and the date wasn't going well. Hermione came by and told me we had go do something so I left. Cho took it the wrong way and dumped me."

"So, you were on a date with a girl you found very attractive and left because Hermione asked you too?"

Harry nodded.

"Would you have left if Ron asked you too?" Snape asked.

"Well, it was a pretty boring date." Harry replied with a grin.

"So you would have left, then?"

Harry thought about it. "Probably not, no. Um, look, I can see where this is going; I've had enough experience with Dumbledore's ramblings. I told you I already know I love Hermione."

"Like a sister." Snape managed to make the words sound filthy and depraved.

"Bugger off." Harry snapped back. "Fine, I didn't say it because I actually feel like she's a sister." Harry calmed down and said evenly, "I said it because that's what a bloke says when he loves a girl he knows doesn't love him that way."

"You are remarkably calm about that. Most would reveal some bitterness."

Harry shrugged. "She fancies Ron. I noticed it during our fourth year, it was pretty obvious then. Says a lot, you know?"

"It says a lot that even though she's never abandoned you, meddles pretty constantly in your love life, badgers you to study and has remained the only witch in the world who has your full trust she sees a happier future with the friend who infuriates her on a regular occasion and has abandoned you both multiple times?" Snape said flatly. "To the point where she disparaged and discounted your opinions in order to pursue him during your sixth year? The time when you needed her support rather badly?"

"Stop," Harry said coldly. "I'm not going to listen to you insult either of them. Remember what you said earlier about me trusting Hermione? I learned my lesson about doubting Hermione after the Firebolt thing." Harry continued in a normal conversational tone, "If Hermione doesn't see me as any kind of boyfriend material then I'm not any kind of boyfriend material. Merlin knows I proved that enough times." Harry shrugged helplessly. "The reason's pretty obvious why, seeing as how I was supposed to die and all. Well the main reason why I wasn't very dateable I guess." His voice grew slightly strained. "Worst part is I know that's not it because she stuck by me through the whole Horcrux hunt, even after Ron left." Harry's face carried a soft genuine smile as he said the next words. "You can't believe how incredibly happy I am for my best mate, because Hermione could do a lot better." His expression became a bit puzzled. "I'm still trying to puzzle out why she hates Ginny so much, but I'm guessing she's just ruthlessly exploiting Ginny's childish crush to give me some chance at getting a descent girlfriend." Harry's eyes bore into Snape's with the absolute confidence he felt in the veracity of his words.

Snape put his face into his hands and sighed. "Albus, it should be you in this bloody chair, not me. Merlin help me, he's starting to convince me he's right." He looked back up at Harry. "Enough of this, I won't try to undo Albus's handiwork, and I'm tired of wasting time with his methodology. Potter, if the True Bonding works then perhaps Hermione isn't as blind as I fear. If it doesn't then you can stay dead or return to the living as you see fit. I've run out of the patience needed to deal with angst." He stood up and walked to one of the shelves. His eyes scanned the laden shelves before he selected a particularly ragged tome. He walked back to Harry and tossed the book down in front of him. "If you can complete the assignments I give you from this book, I'll consider your tutorial complete. After that you can wait bloody well alone and Merlin willing we will never see each other again."

Harry nodded in acceptance of the offer.

"We have an accord. Turn to page 34…"

* * *

The Burrow:

Hermione strode downstairs exuding purpose. Even her customary post-slumber haze deigned premature parting, pierced by the foghorn of her determination. Her paces lead her rapidly into the maternal warmth of the Weasley kitchen. Upon arrival she promptly selected the most advantageous position for ruthlessly exploiting the liquid resource most conductive to rapid cognition.

"Sugar and lemon for your tea, dear?" Molly asked.

"Just a hint of lemon, please," Hermione replied.

Hermione took her first sip and cherished the bitter warmth of Mrs. Weasley's early morning tea. The obligatory appreciation of fine breakfast beverages complete, Hermione plundered the remainder and presented her cup for refilling. Mrs. Weasley deftly took the ceramic in hand and replaced the liquid alertness inside. This ritual repeated itself two more times before Hermione assumed a more sedate pace of imbibing.

Molly placed a plate in front of Hermione containing eggs, toast and bacon sometime betwixt Hermione's second and fourth cup of tea. She waited until Hermione started eating before asking her question. "So dear, you look less troubled this morning. Did you figure something out last night?"

Hermione nodded while she finished masticating the morsel preventing her reply. "Yes, I have." Molly bustled about the kitchen while smiling sadly. "You've puzzled out how to bring Harry back." Hermione nodded. "Oh… well that's good then. Terrible shame about you and Ron, though."

Hermione shrugged. "Is it?"

Molly stared at Hermione, mortified. "Why… what do you mean by that?"

Hermione shrugged again. "Nothing, I suppose." She looked up from her plate to see Ron's frazzled figure plod his way to the table.

"Morning dear. Tea?" Molly asked.

Ron grunted unintelligibly as he plopped bonelessly into the chair opposite Hermione. Molly placed a full cup of tea into his blindly groping hand. Hermione clucked in soft disapproval while Ron noisily slurped down its contents. She clucked louder at his satisfied belch. "Thanks mum." Ron said before loading up a plate with food and gorging. At some point between eating enough food for two grown men and eating enough food for four Ron recognized the expression is girlfriend wore.

"'m 'er'mi'n' 'ets 'us' 'e 'ien'" Ron garbled, spraying a little food back into his plate.

"Ron! That's disgusting! How many times do I have to tell you chew and swallow before talking! Honestly, it's been seven years!" She looked up at Molly in exasperation. "Have you tried hitting him in the head with a frying pan? Merlin knows it's tempted me more than once." She huffed.

Molly nodded in agreement.

Ron swallowed before bellowing, "Hey now! No more threatening my noggin, I got enough of that during school!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Right then," Ron replied. "I was asking if we can still be friends."

Hermione scrunched up her brow in confusion. "Why are you asking that?"

"'Cuz I've seen that look in your eyes and it means that you're gonna finish up that True Bonding mess which obviously means that you've got a break-up speech planned. Considering that it's you, you've prolly written it down. Now, since I know that you like to exceed any given quota by about two feet, I'm going out on a limb here and guessing that the speech will take you a good three hours to clear out. Seeing as how the only thing I hate more than boring speeches is awkward emotional discussions, I figger'd I'd nip both problems in the bud and go straight to the end of the whole thing. That way, I can go have myself a nice manly brood see'n as how I lost my girlfriend and then clear it outta my system sos I can celebrate getting my best mate back. Then after all that I figger I'll work in a little jealousy except I think that was pretty well squashed by Harry off'n himself. I might go for some guilt and self-loathing instead, but Harry's so much better at it I reckon I'd only be embarrassing myself. So, can we still be friends?"

"Ronald!" Hermione cried, outraged.

"Wot? Am I wrong?"

"Yes!" Hermione replied sharply.

"Bloody amazing! You didn't write the breakup speech down? What's next, the sun's going to rise from the east?"

"Ronald, the sun does rise in the east! That's not the point!"

"So you did write down the speech?" Ron asked, waving his fork at her.

"Well… yes, but that's not the point!" Hermione huffed reddening.

"So what's the point? You're bringing Harry back, right?"

"Um… I don't know…"

"Wot? What's not to know? Here you come all determined into the kitchen and you want me be believe it's due to the rashers?" Ron shouted.

"No! It's just I've figured this whole mess out and I know it's not going to work!" Hermione shouted back.

"Why not?" Ron erupted.

Hermione huffed. "Ron, I spent all night going over how a True Bonding works, and even assuming everything Professor Snape wrote in that letter is true there's no way that the ritual will work."

"Huh? I mean, 'e sounded pretty sure of himself on that one."

Hermione shook her head. "Professor Snape wasn't entirely forthcoming about the emotional requirements."

"How do you figure?" Ron asked.

"While he was right about the 'forged in war' part, he didn't mention the fact that the pair has to feel at least the beginnings of the kind of love for each other that is the foundation of a happy marriage. I mean despite Professor Snape's claims, it's pretty obvious Harry doesn't feel that way about me."

Ron shook his head. "Um, actually I know he does."

Hermione looked at him in askance. "What do you mean? You told me he said he loved me like a sister. You didn't lie, did you?"

Ron waved his hands. "No, no, it's not that! Look, um, Hermione, when a bloke says he loves a girl like a sister I don't think it means what you think it means."

Hermione stared at Ron. "What do you think I think it means?"

Ron fidgeted a bit under Hermione's stare. "Well, I'm guessing you think it means that Harry feels the same way about you that I feel about Ginny, right?" Hermione nodded. "Yeah, well, that's not the case. A bloke says that because he knows the girl he loves doesn't want him, or he says it because they've had a run at it and he found a bird he wants more. Seeing as how you and he never had a run of it…"

Hermione blushed. "That… makes sense, I guess. In an emotionally immature fashion."

"Um, yeah, we blokes sure are emotionally immature or what not." He looked to his mother for support but noticed she seemed to be nodding along with Hermione. "Figures. Well, we've pretty much tied up Harry's end here."

"We have? I mean Harry was dating Ginny. Doesn't that change things?"

Ron chuckled. "Nah, I mean look, he didn't chuck himself though the Veil because he thought bein married to you would be horrible. I know Harry well enough to figger he did it for us. Well, that and he knew how you'd react if he told you about it."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Hermione snapped dangerously.

"Nothing, just that we both know you'd be angrier than a slapped dragon and he'd never be able to live with himself if he figured that you thought he had some part in it. Hell, you know him better than I do… what do you think he'd feel if some part of him actually was happy about the mess, even for a little bit."

Hermione looked down at her plate. "He'd kill himself before I found out." She answered quietly.

Ron sighed. "Right. Don't think this doesn't bother me, or that don't I think Snape's a bloody arse who couldn't find his wanker with a map and point-me spell." Ron emphasized his words with more fork waving. "I'm bloody pissed cuz I think the two of us are brilliant together and Snape's off and buggered that one up forever. But I'm not gonna pick us together over Harry bein alive."

Hermione looked up at him, startled.

"Ouch, that hurts." Ron said, genuinely wounded by her shock. "If that surprised you then maybe I'm not so brilliant for you after all."

"Oh Ron, I didn't mean that…"

"Whatever. Look, I'd be fifty kinds of pissed if you dumped me for Harry yeah, but this isn't the same, you know? You're the one who likes schedules and all that rot, so you should know that my 'Run off and be a stupid prat' thing isn't scheduled for another three years."

Hermione managed a weak smile. "I guess not."

"So… still friends?" Ron asked.

Hermione frowned. "Oh Ron, you're still premature in your assumptions that Harry's coming back…"

Ron shook his head. "Whatever you say," he said dismissively. "How's this thing supposed to work?"

Hermione frowned in annoyance at Ron's tone. "Well, if I understand everything Harry told me about the Deathly Hallows and I read the True Bonding right…"

"Wait, Harry told you about the Hallows? As in everything?"

Hermione glared at him. "Yes, Ronald, as in everything."

"He didn't tell me everything." He whined.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Moving on… If everything worked like it should then if I concentrate on wanting him back he'll come back."

Ron blinked. "Well, that seems sort of anti-climatic. I mean, shouldn't it be dramatic or difficult or something? It seems so… simple. And stupid."

"Well I rather think that the whole sordid Hallows matter seems overly simplistic, childish, and contrived. I don't know, maybe it's because I'm muggle-born, but I thought something so powerful would have, you know, style."

"Eh, I don't think it's because you're muggle-born. I mean, if it's anything like what you just said, I'm feeling rather disappointed. Is there gonna be an explosion, or some sparkling lights?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it should be much like how the Hallows worked the first time. All rather dry and tidy I guess, but I still think it's unsatisfying and uninspired."

Ron scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, like you were watching this awesome Quidditch series and then they decided the final game will be played by ickle firsties." Ron shrugged. "Never mind, we can complain more with Harry around. Start, um, thinking hard or something."

"Shouldn't we wait until everybody is here?"

"Nah," Ron said, "you know how much Harry hates being the center of attention. He'll prolly be right embarrassed too. Just do it here."

Hermione pondered, thoughtfully. "I suppose you are correct."

* * *

Beyond the Veil:

Harry blinked owlishly at the simmering ocher fluid before him. Snape paced over and examined the contents of the cauldron. "It appears that my ability to instruct outstrips your ineptitude, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth to retort but vanished with a tiny 'pop' before he could speak.

Snape blinked. "About bloody time." He walked over to the cubby and withdrew a crystal bottle filled with amber liquid and placed it on his desk. After grabbing a pair of glasses he placed them on his desk. "Albus, he's gone," Snape called as he sat down. "You can come out now."

Albus Dumbledore popped into existence in the chair next to the potions master. A small smile graced his lips. "You were right, then."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Of course I was right," he drawled blandly. He un-capped the bottle and filled the glasses with the liquid. Handing one to Dumbledore, Snape raised his glass in a toast. "To me."

Albus grinned as he clinked his glass against Snape's. "To you."

The pair contentedly sipped their brandy.

* * *

The Burrow:

Ron glanced at Hermione. "So, you think it's going to work."

"You know what, Snape? You can take your bloody-all pompous attitude and shove it so far up your arse that Merlin couldn't summon it with the Elder Wand! Why do I smell bacon?"

Molly's delighted scream blended with the cries of his friends followed by a growing number of exuberant shouts as the other inhabitants of the Burrow rushed into the kitchen. First Harry found himself sandwiched between his red-head and bushy-haired friends, then the three we squished into an encompassing Molly embrace. As seconds passed more bodies threw themselves into the mix resulting in a fantastically warm and suffocating melee. When Harry's lungs screamed desperately for air it occurred to him that he was living, in the Burrow, and about to receive the scolding of a lifetime. After the family let him go, Harry closed his eyes and braced for the lectures and recriminations.

His eyes bugged out of his head at the solid impact of a fist with his face. "Harry you stupid bloody git," Harry heard Ron bellow at him as he fell to the floor, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"'m sorry," Harry mumbled up from his newly prone position. "How'd I get here?" He asked as he groped blindly for his glasses. Hermione bent down to pick up his glasses and gently placed them on his face. "Thanks." Harry mumbled.

"I decked you." Ron replied once his friend could see him.

"I figured that out on my own you prat. I meant how did I get from dead to the Burrow?"

Ron pointed meaningfully at Hermione.

Harry barked out in happy laughter. "That overbearing arse was lying the whole time! That git doesn't know a damn thing about people. True Bonding my arse, what a load of hippogriff shit." He grinned playfully at Hermione. "So, Hermione, how'd you manage it?" Harry was taken aback at the shamed-face blushed Hermione was wearing. "Eh, you didn't wind up doing anything **too** dark, did you?" Harry asked with a hint of trepidation. "I mean, any blood sacrifices were Malfoys or Umbridge, right?" He asked half-seriously.

Ron began to feel an inkling of empathy for Hermione whenever she tried to convince him to study. He knew that Harry could be thick sometimes but he found himself beginning to grasp just how buggered up his friend could be. "Harry, mate, aren't you dismissing a possibility a bit out of hand?"

Harry looked at Ron like he'd just suggested McGonagall would make a good bikini model. "Um, no?" Harry replied.

The sound of hands smacking into foreheads filled the Burrow.

* * *

A\N: First, this chapter is a bit longer than my others.

Second, I posted this story as H/Hr for a reason. He's not staying dead. This chapter heralds his triumphant return to the land of the quick.

Well, mostly triumphant. Sort of. Okay, not very triumphant at all, but he's coming back.

The tally is clear – There will be more snarky commentary from Severus, but I won't return him to life.

I dislike overlong author notes but this point has come up enough that I think I should try and explain a little: I'm not trying to bash any character here. Not Ron, not Hermione, not Snape, not Dumbles, not Harry. Yes Snape's commentary is scathing and contemptuous but isn't that quintessentially Severus?

Also, I'm trying to keep characters as IC and as human as possible. Hence, Hermione dithered last chapter and had some angst. In the books, Hermione didn't fly into action; she contemplated and planned before acting. Heck, she often panicked whenever any really serious situation first arose.

This means I'm not going to engage in Weasley-bashing either. Yes, the cannon characters have flaws but I see no need to emphasize the flaws over the other traits.

Final note: For the life of me I can't find a single place in canon where Hermione compliments Ron in a "girl with a fancy" way. The "he's cute and funny and etc." stuff that anybody with a crush/in a new relationship happily blathers out. If people can point me in the right direction (book and page no.) I'll revise a few parts of the chapter.

End rant/explanation.

Oh, specific thanks go out to the-dreamer4 for pointing out some stupid mistakes on my part (Harry's OWL score, my inability to get Mrs. and Ms. straight) as well as zule bean for his role in furthering the "irregardless" debate (going strong since 1912!). I appreciate your help. General thanks go out to all of you who wrote reviews, even those anonymous posters who forgot to give me a chance to explain where I was coming from. Seriously, I don't mind if you flame me for how I portray the characters but I'd appreciate a chance to explain where I'm coming from. Oh, to those wonderful people who offered to beta - I got impatient after re-writing this chapter about seven times. I'll definitely take your generous offer for the next chapter. To the rest: I've revised and rewritten this chapter enough times that I dearly hope I nailed most of the stupid errors. I know I didn't, please accept my apologies for the mistakes in the form of a faster update.

Hermione still needs to think in smaller words.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

Inside the Burrow:

Harry glanced around blankly at the shared looks of exasperation on the faces surrounding him. He managed a weak grin. "You guys are trying to tell me that you honestly believe Severus Snape, bat-like bastard extraordinaire, could actually understand things like romance and feelings?" His grin strengthened at the audible response from the Weasleys. He glanced over at Ron. "Mate, I meant what I said over the locket." Harry looked over to Hermione, missing Ron's pained expression. "Hermione, you're the most brilliant witch I've ever met. If you think I'll understand what you're saying, you've got to let me know how you managed to get my arse outta there."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the True Bonding, right?" Harry shook his head in disbelief. Hermione glowered back making Harry wince. "Why not?" She asked pointedly.

Harry favored Hermione with a bemused expression. "Because you fancy Ron."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That has absolutely no bearing on our present argument."

"Um, it doesn't? I kinda thought that it had a whole lot of 'bearing on our present argument,'" Harry mimicked, "Seeing as how the whole thing is about a bloody marriage."

"So you don't love me?" Hermione sniffed a little.

Harry stared at his bushy-haired best friend gobsmacked. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Do you?" She repeated heatedly. Harry dithered for a bit avoiding the question. "Well?" she asked again.

Harry looked at Ron in obvious distress, but Ron refused to meet his eyes. Harry looked back at Hermione and felt stabbed by the hurt on her face. Desperately he flung his gaze wildly around the room. Arthur gave Harry his usual calm and caring expression. Molly seemed rather miffed but Harry couldn't figure out who held the weight of her disappointment. George's eyes were crossed and he licked his nose. As a last resort Harry sought out Ginny's eyes. They stared at him heavy and sad, and for a moment Harry wondered why he'd never asked her all about her sixth year at Hogwarts. When the moment passed Harry couldn't stand the pain they held. Harry's hands balled so tightly his knuckles turned white. Unable to stand the condemnation Harry stared at the floor before scrunching his eyes closed. The blissful serenity of the afterlife fled before the raging torrent of living emotions. Harry's breathed in short pants as he desperately attempted to control the flow of guilt, anger, irritation and self-loathing. His entire being screamed out the terror of cornered prey.

While normally quite sensitive to the vagaries of Harry's moods, Hermione found herself caught up in the same mindset she held whilst researching or trying to educate Ron; namely, hammer at it until it breaks.

"Do you?"

Harry broke. Blindly throwing himself past the crowd he ran to the door. Flinging it open he fled the Burrow. Hermione wasted no time, running after Harry in a terrified panic. The assembled Weasleys groaned and fretted. Ron slunk into a chair and gorged himself guiltily while Ginny mumbled to herself in a huff. Molly appeared torn between anger at Hermione and worry for Harry, while Arthur tried to calm his wife down enough to keep her from making the situation even less pleasant. George summed up the mood when he said, "Well, we good and buggered that up, didn't we?"

* * *

Outside the Burrow:

Abject desperation propelled Hermione's limbs forward. She knew with complete certainty that if she could not terminate Harry's escape the probability of his fatality approached unity. Pursuing him through a copse of deciduous greenery she ascertained her best opportunity when Harry's foot came into conflict with an obfuscated obstruction in the form of a knobby wooden protuberance. Hermione immediately flung herself bodily at Harry's off-balance body angling her approach so her willowy frame would impact his torso co-joining her center of gravity with his ensuring that his current vector or motion would no longer be orthogonal to the pull of gravity. So disrupted, the pair fell into an ungainly heap. Harry's body shielded her own from the most deleterious effects of the sudden stop but she winced a bit the when he 'whuffed' on impact.

She could only hope that the sensation of her bosoms pressed onto his back assuaged the justifiable ire he felt. Hermione frantically clutched Harry's arms to prevent further attempts at evasion. Flushed with overwhelming emotions and the sheer primordial essence of the episode she succumbed to a most feline instinct and lightly bit down on the back of Harry's neck. Harry's shocked squeak elicited a playful smile around her open jaws. They lay supine for an indeterminable period, Harry afraid of motion, Hermione unwilling to let go.

Finally, Harry's thoughts collected themselves enough for him to take stock of his surroundings. Unfortunately, Harry's thoughts collected themselves enough for him to take stock of exactly what Hermione was doing to the back of his neck. Harry immediately resumed his previous state of stupefaction. Unfortunately no sooner had he returned to lucidity and again inventoried his surroundings he realized that the astonishingly pleasant sensations on the back of his neck intensified immeasurably, shorting out his sentience.

Hermione grew bored and began absentmindedly gnawing on the surprisingly scrumptious morsel of neck betwixt her teeth. Jealous of the neighbors' fun, Hermione's tongue indignantly joined the exercise, absently running itself along the length of the intrusion.

"Hello Harry, Hello Hermione," a soft and breezy voice called out from above them. Harry and Hermione's eyes tracked the voice to its owner. Luna Lovegood sat on a low branch near the pair staring with her buggy blue eyes and a wistful smile. "That looks like fun. May I join in?" She asked serenely.

The mental image flying through his brain reminded Harry that not only was he currently alive but that he was a teenage male. He found being pressed on the ground distinctly less comfortable than before. Still, he felt unexpected regret when Hermione hastily clambered off of him. He noted that she only let go of one of his arms.

"What are you doing here Luna?" Hermione asked flustered.

"Oh! Well I was sleeping at my house until I remembered that we don't have a roof anymore." Luna replied.

Harry and Hermione flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry Luna," Hermione said contritely, "do you have someplace to stay?"

Luna nodded. "I suppose not," she mused airily, "unless the reeking throatnabbers have finished their migrations. In that case I hope Ginny would let me bunk with her until daddy turns home back into home."

Harry watched Hermione's expressions out of the corner of his eyes. He grinned a little when she huffed up at the mention of one of Luna's colorful invention then held back laughter when Hermione's instinctive need to educate fought with her desire to help a needy friend. Harry decided to rescue her. "It's alright Luna, I'm sure the Weasleys won't mind having you around for a bit, especially seeing what happened to your house."

Luna smiled softly. "Oh good. I would hate to spend another night in the rain." Her pale blue eyes stared at a spot behind Harry's ear. "The nargles are quite confounded Harry." Harry looked at her in askance. "Nargles get quite discombobulated when they have to move their roost." Mentally shrugging, Harry decided to nod sagely. "What did you have for breakfast?" Luna asked.

Hermione coughed. Harry took a sidelong glance and recognized her smothered laughter. "Eggs and bacon."

Luna hopped down from her branch. "Oh, I'm sure they were very good."

Harry nodded, almost used to her conversational patterns.

"A healthy breakfast is very important," Luna stated in her floating voice, "and I'm glad that Hermione has figured out that she loves the man who loves her instead of treating her like shit." She gave a breezy smile to the mortified Hermione. "I always wondered why you weren't sorted into Ravenclaw until you chose Ronald over Harry." She sighed softly. "I wonder if Mr. Weasley can disclose what he knows about Centaur Racing now that the Ministry has freed itself from Cornelius' minions." At that, Luna skipped happily towards the Burrow.

Harry and Hermione stared at the skipping Luna until she disappeared around a turn in the path. Harry noted Hermione hadn't let go of his arm. "Um, Hermione," Harry stared pointedly at her grasping hand, "you can let go now."

"Um, Harry," Hermione mimicked mockingly, "I won't let go now."

"Why not?"

"Because until we clear this out I'm not going to let you out of my grasp," Hermione replied flatly.

"Err, okay… um, I guess we should clear this out?" Harry asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I guess we should."

"So, um, what?"

"Harry," Hermione sighed, "sit down." She plopped down cross-legged drawing Harry to sit next to her. He complied. Hermione looked at her lap while worrying her bottom lip. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry looked at his friend. "Why?" He asked.

"I haven't been very good for you," Hermione said sniffling, "I've nagged you and bothered you and I didn't believe you when it was really important."

"Hey! You stuck by me no matter what!"

Hermione clenched her hands, almost crushing his. "No I haven't! Don't you see," she said staring at him with watery eyes, "I let you face Voldemort alone! I promised myself I would be there!"

Harry squeezed her hand back. "It's okay Hermione. It's good you didn't follow me. If you had it just would have been one more death that was my fault, and I couldn't have taken that. I wouldn't have come back if you died… I just…" Harry hung his head. "I don't want to think about that." He took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Look, you're a wonderful friend. A damn sight better than I deserve okay?"

Hermione grimaced. "Honestly Harry, do you really think that?"

He looked at her quizzically. "That you are a wonderful friend? Um, yeah, I do."

"No, that you don't deserve me." She said.

"Oh… yeah, I don't." Harry said.

"Why?"

"Well… um… because."

"Because?" Hermione asked. "That's not terribly informative."

Harry shrugged. "What was up with the neck biting thing?"

Hermione blushed. "It's the first time I've ever pounced anybody so I guess I was channeling my inner Crookshanks. Stop changing the subject."

"Hermione, please don't keep asking me that question, I really don't want to answer it."

"Fine, but don't expect me to forget that you didn't answer."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry replied.

"Alright then. Harry, you do know that the True Bonding worked, right?" Hermione asked shyly.

"Um…" Harry seemed torn.

"Harry?" She asked in a firmer voice.

"No," he answered in a tiny voice.

Hermione growled and threw a hand up in frustration. "It worked already! We're married!" Hermione froze at her last words. Her stomach decided to take up diving. "We're married," she repeated softly.

Harry interpreted her expression as remorseful and immediately panicked. "Oh Merlin I'm sorry… don't worry… you didn't really get it… you don't have… I'll just…"

Harry's flustered babbling quickly pierced her shock. She'd considered this course of action earlier but had discarded it as too melodramatic and chancy. Now she couldn't comprehend of a faster way to break through Harry's angst. Focusing on the strange hurt she felt every time Harry denied their bonding, Hermione began the strange play she'd written in her mind. Her head whipped up and she glared straight through Harry's eyes. "If you think that I'm such a horrid wife then I'll let you free for Ginny!" Hermione whipped out her wand and held the end to her temple. "Avada Ka-"

"No!" Harry screamed as he wrenched her wand from her hand. "No!" He grabbed Hermione into a tight hug, restraining her.

"Why not?" She spat as she fought against his arms. "Let me go!"

"No! I won't! You can't!"

"Why not? Why are you the only one allowed to die?"

"Nobody needs me! The world needs you!" Harry gripped her tighter.

"Bugger the world! Let me go!" She wrenched herself away.

"No!" He tenaciously held on.

"Why not?" She screamed as she struggled.

"Damn it Hermione I need you!" Harry bellowed.

"Why?" She screamed back.

"Because I love you!" Harry buried his face in Hermione's hair and wept. "Damn it Hermione I love you," he sobbed into her shoulder.

Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry. "I know. I know. I've always known." Her tears wet his hair.

"Then why?" Harry said between sobs. "Why did… why didn't… everybody…" Hermione gently rocked him and stroked his back comfortingly. "If you knew why wasn't I good enough? Why was Ron better? Didn't matter how big of a shit he acted he was always… you never… 's okay, 'm just a freak… kills everyone around me… horrible ugly… stupid freak…"

Hermione winced as if struck by a bone-breaking curse. She held her husband while he vented out years of grief, gently kissing the side of his head. "Harry," she murmured into his ear once he calmed down some, "in all honesty there is only one answer. It's not very long or very good but it's the only one I can give you. Do you want to hear it?" Harry nodded into her lips. "I was a fucking idiot."

Harry startled back and stared at Hermione's puffy eyes. "Wha?"

Somehow a chuckle found its way to her lips. She nodded helplessly. "That's the sum of it. The great Hermione Potter," Hermione missed Harry's shocked gasp, "brightest witch of her generation, was still capable of some pretty impressive stupidity." She slightly grinned at the flabbergasted look on her husband's face. "Come on Harry, it does happen. Rarely."

Harry shook his head.

Hermione arched her brow. "Well, what is it then?"

"You… you said… Hermione Potter," Harry stuttered out.

Hermione blinked and then her face fell into a pensive expression as she ran through her last words. "I did, didn't I?" Harry nodded. Hermione shrugged. "So I did." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You heard what I said after my name, right?"

"Um… the stupidity part?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "Good, I'd rather not have to say that for at least fifty years."

"So you don't mind being married?" Harry asked.

"Of course I mind!" Hermione squeezed her husband before he could pull back. "Wait a second and let me finish!" Harry calmed down. "I'm only seventeen, I've not taken my NEWTs or found a job or even introduced you to my parents. Merlin, my parents don't even remember they have a daughter! I haven't un-jinxed my parents to let you meet my parents!"

Harry fidgeted in her grasp. "Um, could you stop telling me about the meeting the parents thing? It's kinda scaring me. I mean aren't they going to hate me?" He looked a bit ill.

Hermione smirked at her husband's reaction. "Actually I think they will be quite happy to meet you."

"Why? Because I'm Harry Potter?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, because you're not Ronald Weasley."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

The following week passed by in a blur. After a great deal of cajoling by Molly, Arthur and Hermione, Harry agreed to follow the potion regime laid out by the late professor Snape. Much to the shock (and a small amount of consternation from Hermione) of the Weasleys, Harry took over the brewing of the potions. When asked, he explained his lessons while dead. Ron was very sympathetic.

"Bloody Hell, mate, that's awful. I mean, really, that's as close to bloody Hell as I can imagine."

Harry couldn't help but agree with his friend's assessment.

He found his friendship with Ginny strained, but intact, and he noticed that she seemed to gather a great deal of satisfaction from the mothering and sympathy she received whenever she bemoaned her newly single status. Oddly, she spent a good deal of the time over at her new-found friend Neville's house, but Harry shrugged it off as the strong bonds she formed with him during the last year. He wondered why he didn't feel a bit jealous, but he figured that he was better off that way and decided that it was better to just ignore the whole thing.

Mostly, Harry spent his time alternating between enjoying the company of his friends and 'family,' dreading taking the next potion, and grieving for the losses suffered during the war. Finally, the tedium was interrupted by Arthur's announcement when he came home late from work one day.

"Um, Harry, the Minister thought that you should know that the, um, contract between you and Hermione is going to become public record in a few days. She was wondering if maybe you had some place, preferably far away, that you need to be?"

Harry looked over to Hermione. "I guess we'd better restore your parents' memories now, right? I mean, we really shouldn't put it off any longer." Hermione agreed wholeheartedly with Harry, and the next morning the pair received an international portkey from the Ministry. After saying their goodbyes to the assembled Weasleys, the pair grabbed onto the stuffed wallaby, and vanished.

* * *

Harry and Hermione walked reluctantly up to the doorstep of the single-story ranch house located in the outskirts or Perth, Australia. Hermione glanced over at her husband. "Well, this is it I suppose." Harry nodded at her, trying to give her an encouraging look but instead he only managed to convey his trepidation. Hermione's face mirrored his own. Swallowing her fears, she knocked firmly on the door. A few seconds later, the door opened revealing a friendly looking middle-aged man with just a hint of paunch.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"_Confundus_," Hermione cast quickly and then pushed past her befuddled father. Harry followed, closing the door behind him.

"Er… sorry about this," he said quietly to the glassy-eyed dentist.

"Wendell, honey, who's at the door?" Harry noticed the strong similarities between Hermione's voice and her mother's. He watched Hermione walk into the kitchen. "Um, excuse me miss, what are you do-"

Mrs. Granger's question was cut off by Hermione's quick _confundus_. "Harry, would you bring my father into the kitchen and make sure I'm not disturbed until I finish? Reversing obliviation is rather delicate work and I'd rather not send my parents to St. Mungo's to keep Lockhart company."

Shrugging, Harry gently led her father in the direction of Hermione's voice. Entering the room, a simple but comfortably sized kitchen, he noticed Hermione worrying her lower lip as she waved her wand in complex figures over the her mother's head. Hermione's mother sat at a chair in the kitchen, glazed eyes staring blankly at a plate of half-eaten food. Careful not to disturb Hermione's work, he placed Mr. Granger in a chair next to Mrs. Granger and sat down across from the pair. Harry quickly found himself awestruck by the intricate manipulation of magics that Hermione performed over her parents. Almost a half-hour later, she stepped back and favored her parents with a satisfied smile. "That should do it," she said with a smile. Her smile faded. "I suppose they are going to be rather cross with me once they recover all of their memories."

"I don't," Harry replied. Hermione looked at him oddly.

"Why not?"

"Well, you did ask them first, right?"

Hermione shook her head no. "Well, you see I tried to get them to move to Australia because of the war, but they wouldn't listen. This was the only way I could keep them safe. And, I guess, if I died… happy."

Harry looked at her oddly. "Um… but when they come out of this state they aren't going to know you did it, right? You've got some magnificent cover ready, with all the possible questions and answers all written up."

Hermione shook her head again. "I couldn't do that to them!"

Harry blinked. "Er… so you basically played Headmaster with their memories, wiped your existence from their minds, set up completely new lives for them with all their financial stuff taken care of, proving yourself capable of creating and destroying whole lives on a whim, and now you are just bringing them back?"

Hermione nodded, worrying her lower lip.

Harry shrugged. "Did you tell them about Legilimancy?" Hermione shook her head. Harry looked up, thoughtfully. "Well then I don't think they'd dare act cross around you ever again."

Hermione stared at her husband, shocked. "What… what do you mean?"

"Well, nothing. Not really."

"Harry…"

"It's just that I wouldn't dare. I mean, they'll know there's nothing they can do about it, and they're probably going to wonder for their whole lives whether anything in life is true or false." Harry shrugged and explained. "I mean, you've pretty much shown them they have no power or safety, they can't trust their own memories, and that you're quite willing to muck about with their heads whenever you think it's for their own good." He shook his head. "Bloody hell, Hermione, now I'm getting a bit jumpy around you."

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "I'd never do something like that to-"

Harry winced. "Um… yes you would. If you thought it was for my own good."

"No I wouldn't!" She denied franticaly.

"Firebolt," Harry replied dryly.

Hermione's shoulders fell, and she began to sniffle. Harry started to panic. "Er, wait, um, it's okay, I mean really, think about all the stupid things you could have kept me from doing!" His words rushed out faster as Hermione began crying. "I mean, what if you'd know well enough to obliviate that dream Voldemort sent me! Sirius might still be around. And, um… yeah, the tent! Um… I mean, what if I'd come on to you or something daft like that?" He didn't notice Hermione's breath hitch as he blathered. "Like, all those times when we seemed so incredibly close and then I'd just up and start thinking about Ginny!" Hermione's face paled to translucency, but Harry babbled on oblivious. "So, um, maybe I did something stupid and you just made me forget all about it so that we wouldn't have more problems than we already did! Brilliant, I say, absolutely brilliant! Nothing to worry about at all!" He finished with a silly, triumphant grin, glad that he'd talked his way around something unpleasant.

"Oh Merlin Harry… I'm so…" Hermione broke off in mid sob, covered her mouth and ran to the sink where she began to busily empty the contents of her stomach. Harry rushed up to pull back her hair and turned on the sink to help flush away her vomit. He gently ran his free hand in comforting circles across her back. Hermione sobbed and heaved while he panicked.

"Um… it's okay… I mean it's not like that happened… It was a stupid thing… just forget I ever said anything…" He stammered out. Hermione sobbed harder when Harry said 'forget'. "You… you didn't actually… I mean…"

Hermione nodded and choked on her tears, heaving. Harry froze, slumped against the counter. He took a few deep breaths through his mouth, trying to regain his bearings. "Um… well… I mean, it's not something I'd really **want** to remember, right? I mean, I just embarrassed myself and you didn't want that, so you let me forget. It's not like we snogged or anything…" Harry trailed off.

"I'll bring them back…" Hermione said weakly.

"Um… maybe you shouldn't. I mean, no, no you shouldn't. I don't want to have to remember stupidly embarrassing myself and all. Um… how many people have you done this too? I mean, you know, our friends and stuff. Like Ron… and Ginny… and all?"

"No," Hermione replied tearfully.

"Well! There you go then!" Harry said with a bit of forced cheerfulness. "Always looking after me, even from myself… er… yeah, I'm okay, no worries…"

"Hermione? Is that you?" Mrs. Granger interrupted weakly. Harry and Hermione looked over at her parents. The older couple was blinking owlishly at the room, trying to regain their focus.

Hermione rinsed out her mouth and turned off the sink. "Yes, mother. It's me." She said softly.

Mr. Granger appeared to gather his senses first. He stood up and hugged his daughter. "I'm glad you're safe, pumpkin." Hermione clutched her father in a tearful embrace.

"Oh daddy, I'm sorry… I just had to keep you safe… it was so awful."

"We'll talk about this later," he said calmly. He looked down at Harry, then back at Hermione. "Is everything alright?"

Hermione shook her head. "Yes… no… I mean…"

"HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING!" Mrs. Granger screamed.

Mr. Granger winced, and offered a hand to Harry. "We'd better sit this one out in another room." He offered his hand to help Harry to his feet, and then led the boy into an adjacent sitting room. They both cringed as they heard the two women begin a high-pitched row.

Mr. Granger offered Harry a seat in an over-stuffed chair and walked over to a cabinet, opening it. He withdrew a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. "You look like you need this as much as I do," Mr. Granger said as he poured a highball for each of them. "Cheers," he whispered quietly. Harry and Mr. Granger downed the drinks with identical grimaces. Not bothering to ask, Mr. Granger refilled both glasses. "Harry Potter, I assume?" Mr. Granger asked.

Harry nodded. "How…"

Mr. Granger smiled. "Elementary, my dear Watson. First, you have a British accent, and are accompanying my daughter. This eliminates the possibility that you are a local, and I would expect that only a close friend would make a trip to Australia with her. The fact that you are male eliminates most of the candidates. Secondly, you are lacking in both the stature and colouration indicative of a Weasley, further narrowing the field. Finally, you are demonstrating a great deal of familiarity with my daughter's arguing habits, to the point where you can filter out her screaming enough to understand me. Q.E.D. it follows that you are Harry Potter."

Harry laughed softly. "I guess so. Um… Watson?"

"Sherlock Holmes?" Mr. Granger asked, a bit set back.

"Oh, right… er… sorry, never had time to read much, I suppose. Not a very good Brit I guess, am I?"

Mr. Granger laughed. "No, you most certainly are not. You must rectify your ignorance of the classics post haste!"

Harry grimaced. "At least she comes by it honestly," he muttered under his breath. Mr. Granger chuckled.

"…IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME YOUR WIZARD'S OATH THAT YOU WILL NEVER EVER DO SUCH A THING AGAIN THEN YOU MIGHT AS WELL MAKE US FORGET YOU AGAIN BECAUSE WE HAVE NO DAUGHTER!" Mrs. Granger's scream pierced the men's mental filters.

Harry winced. "Don't you think that's a bit harsh?" He asked.

"No." Mr. Granger replied solemnly.

"FINE! I SWEAR ON MY LIFE AND MY MAGIC I WILL NEVER OBLIVIATE YOU AGAIN UNLESS I AM REQUIRED BY LAW!" Hermione replied. Mr. Granger's eyes widened as Harry briefly glowed. Harry looked at him confusedly. "ARE YOU BLOODY HAPPY NOW?"

"NO I AM NOT BLOODY HAPPY WITH YOU YOUNG WOMAN!" The men quickly re-engaged their mental filters.

"Um… Harry… why did you just glow?" Mr. Granger asked cautiously.

Harry looked down at himself, then back up at Mr. Granger. "I glowed?"

"Yes, just then."

Harry ran his hand through his hair nervously. "Um… I don't know?"

"Oh. Well, it's not harmful I hope? You aren't going to explode or anything, right?"

"Er… I don't think so," Harry said weakly, "it's probably nothing important."

Mr. Granger shrugged. "Well, if you aren't worried than I certainly won't worry. My wife worries enough for both of us."

Harry grinned. "So she comes by that honestly too."

Mr. Granger chuckled. "I suppose she does. While I can't say I'm terribly surprised, why are you here instead of the erstwhile Ronald Weasley? I mean, best friends are great but I'm rather disappointed that her," he spat out the word like a curse, "_boyfriend_ couldn't bring himself to accompany my daughter."

Harry tried to swallow the lump that spontaneously appeared in is throat, but his mouth decided that it wanted to change occupations to 'desert'. "Ah… well… you see… I really don't know if there's a good way to tell you this…"

"YOU'RE MARRIED?" Mrs. Granger shrieked.

Harry winced. "…but I'm positive that was not it."

The house fell completely silent.

"So I suppose that you thought it best to marry Ronald Weasley while we weren't around to remind you of how incomprehensibly horrible a decision that is." Mrs. Granger's words were calm, deadly.

Harry and Mr. Granger winced. They heard Hermione's hissing exhalation. "Whatever mistakes **you** may have made, mother," Hermione replied in an equally deceptive voice, "have no bearing on my life and my decisions."

"Really? So that's why you insisted on throwing yourself at a boy who time and time again showed every single attribute of my ex-husband?" Mrs. Granger said evenly. "You think a boy who'd abandon you and your friend time and time again over petty jealousy and his mulish,**dangerous**, temper will miraculously change his ways once you two become married? That somehow **you** are smart enough to make a bad situation work when no other woman has?"

"Mother…" Hermione hissed. Harry shuddered at the mental image he formed of her face at that moment. He took another drink from his glass, ignoring the burn.

"Don't 'mother' me young woman. Do you think I'm looking forward to consoling you when he cheats on you, or at best abandons you whenever times get tough? Do you think I want to contemplate the **very** **real** possibility of seeing my daughter in the hospital, or even the**morgue**, once his violence escalates from verbal to physical?"

Harry winced again. "He's not that bad of a bloke," he said quietly to Mr. Granger.

"That's what they all say, Harry, that's what they all say. Or has he changed that much from the last time we conversed with our daughter." Harry's pained wince answered Mr. Granger's question more clearly than words. He laid a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Just be ready to pick up the pieces, lad, and find a good place to hide the body," Mr. Granger advised solemnly. "That's what I did."

Harry's gaze flew up to Mr. Granger's face. Mr. Granger stared back into the young man's green eyes solemnly. "I'm only joking about the body," he said without a minute trace of levity in his voice or eyes. His hand felt like lead on Harry's shoulder. Harry swallowed. The continued silence from the kitchen indicated that Hermione hadn't found a good answer to her mother's question.

Finally, her suddenly wistful words carried into the room. "I'm not married to Ron," she said.

"You aren't?" Mrs. Granger's shocked voice replied.

Harry found himself uncomfortably aware of how close Mr. Granger's hand was to his unprotected neck. Locked in Hermione's father's quizzical gaze, Harry tried and failed to form a grin. He felt a few drops of sweat bead on his forehead.

"No," Hermione replied softly, "I'm not."

Harry started wishing he was anywhere but in a chair, alone in a room with Hermione's dad, without enough room to bolt. He briefly considered apparition, but he doubted that he could get his wand out before Mr. Granger inflicted severe injuries upon him. Mr. Granger cocked an eyebrow at Harry's expression. Harry swore he could feel the hand tightening its grasp.

"Who? When? Why?" Mrs. Granger asked, still a bit stunned.

Harry swallowed. He started getting flashbacks of his final confrontation with Voldemort. He swore he heard a snitch popping open nearby.

"We just found out a few days ago. It wasn't my choice, or his. It's… complicated." Hermione replied.

Harry began to savor his last moments on earth. He could feel his heart beating like a wild animal, desperate to get in as much movement before that final stillness.

"Who?" Mrs. Granger asked again.

Harry closed his eyes.

"Harry Potter."

Harry waited to for the sudden flash of pain, followed by blissful calm and the lonesome horn of the Hogwarts Express.

"You aren't carrying his child, are you?" Mrs. Granger asked, with oddly tender concern.

It took a Herculean effort, but Harry managed to retain the contents of his bladder. He definitely felt Mr. Granger's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"No! No… nothing like that…" Hermione stammered back.

"Oh thank God," Harry heard Mr. and Mrs. Granger say at the same time. He heartily agreed with the sentiment. "So you haven't…" Mrs. Granger asked. Harry felt time slow to a crawl as he awaited Hermione's negative response. 'That's odd,' he thought, 'why hasn't she told her that we haven't? What's with the silence?'

Harry's eyes flew open. Stunned, he forgot Mr. Granger's company. He leapt to his feet, shrugging off the older man's grip. He stalked to the doorway, and stared straight at Hermione. He took in her tear-stained cheeks, her wild hair. "You… I… We…" He stuttered out.

Hermione refused to look him in the eye.

"Fuck," Harry whispered. "Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! **FUCK**!" Shaking, he wracked his brain trying to remember the closest apparition point to a wizarding bar. A second later, he vanished from the room.

"Honey," Mrs. Granger said softly, "you didn't…"

* * *

A\N – continued- : I acknowledge that other writers have utilized Hermione's soulless dispensing of obliviations in their own stories as major plot points, usually with far greater skill than I, such as The Obsidian Warlock's 'The Meaning of Father' and Arsinoe de Blassenville's 'The Golden Age'. They are both very well done stories, and I recommend them to anybody (well, maybe not rabid Draco/Filch shippers). I'm not intentionally stealing from them, but I will acknowledge their influence, as well as their ability to understand the consequences of Hermione's actions in a way that JKR could not.

Well, this chapter may not make too many people happy, but I suppose it does answer the questions:

1. "Why in the Hell was the flow of _Deathly Hallows_ so jarring and broken? Were the editors on strike, or were they on crack?"

2. "Right, so you are telling me that you have a teenager boy and a teenage girl, neither of whom are gay, in a tent by themselves, in constant fear for their lives, who've just been abandoned by their best friend and the female's 'love interest', and not once did any sort of hormonal activities or feelings arise for the other? Are these characters so unrealistically and poorly portrayed that they've been transformed into monotonous emo-bots, or was there something else behind it all?"

DH made "Happily Ever After" a very hard goal to obtain. Next: Fallout, remembering, and a most unpleasant voice of reason (Yes, which means more Snape).


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

Hermione gave her parents a pained look before apparating away with a sharp crack. Mr. and Mrs. Granger shared a concerned look.

"Honey," Mr. Granger said, "what do you think about all of this?"

Mrs. Granger shrugged helplessly. "Honestly? I have no idea what to think. I mean, first I learn our daughter decided to muck about with our memories, for our own good of course, and then I find out she probably saved our lives by doing so. Next, we find out she's married, but not to that horrible boy… and then this last little bombshell…."

Mr. Granger walked over and gave his wife a fierce hug. He opened his mouth to reply, but a flash of fire and a hauntingly beautiful trill silenced him. A large red bird dropped a letter into their laps, and with another flash of fire disappeared. Cautiously, Mr. Granger picked up a fork from the table and poked the envelope.

Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes at her husband's antics. "Honestly dear, don't you recognize the bird from our daughter's letters? That was a phoenix. I'm certain that whatever it brought us is safe."

Mr. Granger harrumphed and picked up the letter. Noting that the envelope was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Granger in tidy flowing black letters, he opened up the letter and unfolded the enclosed parchment, holding it so they could both read the contents.

_To the Grangers,_

_It is my most sincere hope that you receive this missive, as that means that you have survived the coming conflict both physically and mentally. The Headmaster's phoenix, Fawkes, was tasked to deliver this note upon the end of the latest war in the wizarding world, as soon as the two of you were both healthy and fully able to comprehend its contents._

_The last requirement was insurance against the rather probable likelihood that your daughter, acting in many ways like her departed Headmaster, would choose to guarantee your safety regardless of your wishes, or consent. I would strongly suggest that you forgive your daughter, as your previous decisions have shown that you both refuse to accept certain realities concerning your daughter's world._

_Such as the abominable decision to refuse the simple correction of a most distinguishing and rodent-like smile._

_First, an introduction: My name is Severus Snape, and I have had the honor and privilege to act as your daughter's potions instructor for five years of her life, and her DADA professor for one. I am uncertain whether she's shared her honest opinion about my teaching style, but if she has do not fret that this missive will contain scathing insults towards your daughter. Rather, they shall be directed towards you._

_I suppose I should start by informing you that your daughter is, in the eyes of both Magic and the Ministry, married to one Harry James Potter. As I rather doubt that she is the type of girl who would fail to inform her parents about whatever romantic pursuits she's undertaken, I suppose that this will come as a bit of a shock. A pleasant shock, I hope. Mr. Granger, I shall alleviate your concerns. Mr. Potter would die for your daughter, not only to save her life but for such ephemeral concerns as her happiness and freedom of choice. In fact, he already has._

_Twice._

_Perhaps more background information is in order. One of the harshest problems plaguing muggle-born students is the fact that they, and their families, do not understand certain fundamental precepts of magical society that magically raised individuals take for granted. This lack of contextual knowledge hinders their social acclamation, as well as their theoretical and practical learning. I shall explain one such precept to you now: Magic can, will, and does neatly circumvent the unpleasant uncertainties around many life choices that confound muggles. If I tell you that your daughter and Mr. Potter have all of the ingredients necessary for a long, happy, and fruitful marriage, I am not informing you of my opinion, I am presenting fact proven by magic itself._

_Please, take a moment to at least try to accept this. If my observations are correct, Mr. Granger will understand long before his wife._

_How can I say this? It's simple, really, if one knows your daughter beyond a passing familiarity. What is the saying? If you want to know what a girl will be like in twenty years, look at her mother? The opposite also holds a fair amount of water. Allow me to share my observations, as their accuracy shall help you accept my further commentary._

_You both cherish your daughter, although you've taken strict measures to keep yourselves from spoiling her. Unfortunately, neither of you were ever terribly popular as children, and therefore you failed to impart upon your daughter the needed social skills that would allow her to gain the acceptance of her peers. Instead, you encouraged her academically and socialized her as an adult, rather than as a child. Unfortunately, Mrs. Granger decided that the best way to motivate her daughter was to demand perfection far above her peers, leading to a clinging lack of self-worth that haunts your daughter to this day. Mr. Granger, most likely unconsciously, has attempted to counteract this with showers of praise and affection, leading Hermione towards her blind faith in authority as well as her belief that if she proves herself worthy, she will be rewarded with respect and admiration._

_All in all, your daughter has been well served, albeit at the cost of having more than a few close friends her age. Considering her peers, perhaps this is not so great a loss._

_Unfortunately, she's inherited her mother's inability to accept that sometimes one doesn't know as much as one thinks they do, as well as Mr. Granger's inclination towards protecting people from their own mistakes. Combining these traits with her incredible lack of understanding about certain fundamental truths in the magical world with her even more incredible talent and ambition means that, for all intents and purposes, Hermione was, and possibly still is, headed towards becoming the most powerful and dangerous Dark Lady since Morgana herself._

_Not to say that in the long run that would have been such a terrible thing. Wizarding society, as a whole, has for the last thousand years eclipsed the muggle world in matters of social equity and morality. It has only been in the last hundred or so, well within the lifespan of the magically gifted, that this is no longer the case, and our society has yet to acknowledge this fact. We are, on a whole, rather slow to change, and perhaps the fact that the muggles and the muggle-born have a genuine reason to look down upon our society has contributed to the radical pure-blood philosophies that have created the previous to Dark Lords. Throughout our long history, almost every Dark Lord or Lady has come from the ranks of the pure-blooded or espoused beliefs held by them. The last muggle-born Dark Lord is still revered to this day._

_His name? Merlin._

_I can only hope that the decision to betroth your daughter to Mr. Potter will temper the more radical and violent edges of her eventual actions. She will make her mark on our world, and she'll blaze across her opposition with a flurry of intellectual, philosophical, moral and if need be physical violence. For our own good, of course._

_Or perhaps, for the greater good?_

_Forgive me if you don't understand the reference, ask Mr. Potter about it later. He's had a lifetime to understand exactly what 'the greater good' can entail._

_Back to the matter at hand. Why have I decided to act the way I have? I place part of the blame firmly on your shoulders. As I am certain you know, your daughter has shown no romantic interested in Mr. Potter whatsoever. Instead, she's focused her attentions and affections upon Mr. Ronald Weasley._

_In case you were not aware, Mr. Weasley is a lazy, greedy, jealous child who has been emotionally spoiled by his mother and eclipsed by the extraordinary talents of every elder sibling in the family. Rather than take his brother's greatness as a challenge, he chose from the very start the far easier path of self-pity and holding impossible dreams while failing to take the effort needed to achieve them._

_Ugh, it pains me to write this. Mr. Weasley is not completely hopeless, nor does he possess only negative traits. Perhaps, in the slim chance that he matures over the next few decades, he might actually become something of a good match for your daughter, or anybody's daughter for that matter. He does show a certain imbecilic loyalty, although only when he's not feeling an over-abundance of petty jealousy, and he has an idiot savant's ability to spew out the correct answer when he thinks he's joking. With a mere twenty or thirty years of concerted effort, he might actually manage to justify his existence._

_If I still had breath to hold, I wouldn't._

_Oh, yes, sorry. The fact that you are reading this implies that my own time has come. Quite willingly, actually. Ask your daughter to explain, if you have a few weeks to spare. Or ask Mr. Potter if you want an incomplete summary which may or may contain the truth of the matter._

_I shall leave the option to you. _

_To continue: Knowing how the teenage mind works, and the close friendship that your daughter shared with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter, it became a for-gone conclusion that at some point she would end up at least dating one of the two. The sad truth was she chose to focus her romantic affections on the boy who disparaged her opinion, infuriated her beyond measure, and in most ways belittled her while simultaneously relied upon her as his primary academic crutch. In truth, Harry also did these things, but far more in line with your daughter's constant nagging and overweening superiority complex, an equitable trade in agitations, if you will._

_So, why then did your daughter, who has in every other way shown herself superior in both intellect and maturity to her peers, act like every other bubble-headed bint? I am certain there are a multitude of reasons; however, I believe that one of the factors arose earlier in her childhood, placing some responsibility on you._

_First, from observing your daughter's core beliefs, I believe you consider yourselves progressive people and most likely Mrs. Granger is a strict feminist. You've given your daughter an excellent understanding of what a loving relationship is, and you've raised her to believe what the most desirable traits in a prospective partner are. Perhaps you've fallen into the trap of presenting an overly-feminized man as best, or perhaps not. You have, however, demonstrated that the female can be the domineering and leading partner and at some point she decided she prefers that role. I will posit that Mr. Granger is usually soft-spoken and deferential to Mrs. Granger, but is as steadfastly stubborn in his own beliefs. Your daughter will, eventually, acquiesce to other peoples desires when finally convinced that the other person is either right or unwilling to change their minds. This bodes well for her future relationships, if she ever manages to temper her self-righteousness._

_Unfortunately, it is obvious that you and your daughter also hold fast to a version of the Catholic morality system, if only subconsciously. This leads me to believe that at some point in her earliest childhood Mrs. Granger came upon her daughter's infantile exploration of her body, and managed to impart the belief that certain bits, along with the positive reaction that their manipulation created, were in some fashion either immoral or dirty. Enter puberty, and the disgusting hormonal mess that is adolescence. Your little princess finds herself once again exploring those bits, but because her subconscious mind believes those bits and feelings are immoral and dirty, she only finds herself attracted to men that she considers on some level immoral and dirty._

_I swear muggle feminists with puritanical sexual morality are responsible for more miserable women and lonely men…_

_Myself? I was a scathing, unattractive, unwashed, hateful misogynist who heaped abuse upon any I felt deserving. Taken as a whole, I must judge my outward persona as the most unpleasant and rotten git possible to still be able to associate with genteel society. _

_Needless to say, I'd never found myself with a shortage of dates, especially amongst the muggle-born._

_Now that I have established my credentials, or perhaps in your eyes my villainy, I shall explain my actions. During your daughter's sixth year at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore posed the question as to whether your son-in-law would find some happiness in his life after the matter of Voldemort was resolved. I answered him honestly, and he tasked me with the responsibility of finding some way to rectify the negative impact of his manipulations. Fortunately, your daughter presented the opportunity needed, and as a proper Slytherin I crafted a scenario that circumvented both your daughter's and Mr. Potter's self-destructive immaturity. I shall leave the telling of the manner in which I achieved this goal to your children, but I assure you that your daughter and Mr. Potter can and will find joy in their marriage._

_If they couldn't, you wouldn't be reading this letter._

_Now that I've finished explaining my actions, allow me to educate you in the history behind your son-in-law, as well as his part in the war against Voldemort…_

oOooOo

Mrs. Granger glowered at the letter. She turned to her husband and asked, "You don't actually agree with that… man's… opinion, do you?" She spat out the word 'man's' with acid.

"Perhaps we should read more about our newest family member," Mr. Granger replied carefully. Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes at her husband's transparent evasion, but decided to let the matter drop. For now. Mr. Granger consoled himself with the knowledge that their couch was new, and had yet to develop any uncomfortable lumps. Together, they read the rest of the letter, learning more about the boy who'd captivated their daughter since the first ride on the Hogwarts Express, and the world that so nearly stole her away.

oOooOo

A\N the Second:

Dunno why, but Snape always struck me as the kind of guy who'd subscribe to either the "Women are stupid and deserve what they get" theory of why girls date jerks, or he'd subscribe to the philosophy presented in this chapter.

I wonder how many guys felt that JKR's decision to go Ron/Hermione in her stories paralleled their own experiences with nice girls dating jerks, and how many felt as frustrated JKR's 'relationships' as they felt with the nice girls?

Next Chapter – Harry grows some spine!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

* * *

Harry pivoted about at the distinctive crack of apparition. He glared at Hermione. "I really don't want to talk to you right now," he said with a guttural growl.

Hermione blinked back tears. "That's fine," she replied.

Harry blinked. "Then why are you here?" He asked pointedly.

"Because I'm not going to let you leave me behind." She said softly.

Harry threw his hands up in the air. "Well tough shit! I don't want you around." Hermione started to sniffle. "Shit… fine. If you're here, why don't you tell me what the Hell happened, and why you thought it was a brilliant idea to fuck around with my bloody memories," Harry spat.

"Oh Harry, I never meant to hurt you…"

"Of course not," Harry snapped, "it never happened! Not like I can remember a bloody thing!"

Hermione winced. "Harry…"

"What?"

She sighed. "Do you want to remember?"

"No," Harry said calmly, "I don't." He turned and started walking away. Hermione winced in pain and hurried after him.

"Harry! You can't mean that!" She grabbed his arm.

Harry half-heartedly tried to shake off her grip. "The Hell I don't," he muttered. Tears ran down Hermione's face, but she didn't let go of Harry's arm as they walked aimlessly down the empty street. After a few minutes he stopped abruptly.

"So… when did you plan on telling Ron?" Harry asked quietly.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know."

For the first time in his life, Harry felt tempted to give Hermione a Snape-worthy sneer. "You don't know? Don't you think he might have noticed something, say, on your _wedding_ night?" He spat out.

Hermione shuddered. "I… I figured I'd tell him that my hymen broke while horseback riding as a child."

"How terribly honest of you," Harry said with a trace of contempt. "That's the sort of mutual respect that a solid marriage is built on. Oh, wait, what the hell do I know?" Harry resisted the smack his hand against his face. "And I suppose that the Weasleys, being such a _progressive_ family, wouldn't possibly follow some old-fashioned tradition that might involve certain invasively informative spells?"

Hermione paled. She hadn't considered that nuance, but it did sound right up Molly's alley.

"And then what? You think Ron would just forgive and forget?" Harry asked flatly. "After all, he's shown how well he handles jealousy."

Hermione shuddered. "What do you want me to say?" She asked pitifully.

"I don't know." Harry shrugged miserably. "I really have no idea what you could possibly say."

"Can I try to explain?" Hermione said quietly. Harry grunted. "I… we… it wasn't supposed to happen. After Ron left us… it hurt so bad. You just, I just, oh Harry you remember how awful it was?"

Harry grunted. "Of course. Well, at least I think I do."

Hermione winced. "Harry… I didn't… it was only once..." Harry cocked an eyebrow. Hermione shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Harry, what kind of monster do you take me for?"

Harry deflated. "I don't, Hermione, it's just too damn much, okay. The whole thing was too damn much and this…" He waved his hand as if gesturing towards some unseen object.

"I know, Harry, I know." She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Well, it happened a few weeks after Ron left. We were both so damn tired and hungry and frustrated. I was going to wake you up but you were having this horrible nightmare and when I shook your shoulder… I couldn't take the pain in your eyes… I had to do something… so I held you and you held me and oh Harry it felt so good, you know, just to be held…"

"No, I don't," Harry muttered.

Hermione blinked. "Don't what?" She asked softly.

"Know how good it felt…"

"Harry, please let me undo this!" Hermione cried.

Harry shrugged. "Can't be undone," he said flatly.

She shook her head. "I meant the memory charm."

"I know what you meant. Like I said before, it doesn't matter. I'd rather not remember." Hermione clutched his arm and sobbed.

"Oh Merlin Harry, I'm sorry!"

"Why did you do it?" He asked, resignation dampening his anger.

"I don't know… I mean, we are both teenagers and between the stress and the fear and the…"

"Not that!" Harry interrupted quickly. "I mean why did you wipe my memory?" Hermione mumbled something into Harry's arm. "I didn't catch that," he said.

Hermione pulled her face away from his damp sleeve and sniffled. "I thought you were going to leave me behind," she said softly.

That stopped Harry in his tracks. "Wait, what?"

"It was horrible. Afterwards you just kept going on and on about how it was a mistake and how sorry you were and how you wish it had never happened and so I just…"

Harry just stared at her. "So that's it? I was hurt and confused so you decided to take the memory away from me?" He asked, his voice soft and flat. Hermione winced and nodded. "Just like that?" Hermione nodded again. "No discussions, no arguments, you didn't bother trying to let _us_ figure the whole thing out?" He said, more of a statement than a question. Hermione shook, but nodded. "Let go," Harry said flatly.

Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed. "What?"

"Let go. Let me go. Don't talk to me. Don't follow me."

"But… but…"

"Stop," Harry said without emotion. "Stop pretending that Snape did a damn thing, that we're married, that you give a damn. Just stop." He forcefully wrenched his arm out of her grasp. "Go back to your parents. Hell, go back to the Burrow, I don't give a damn, just be sure to tell Ron exactly what we did before you two get back together." He looked at Hermione "I really thought…" He smirked. "It's funny, really, that for a little while I thought maybe Snape might actually have gotten it right." He shook his head, the mocking smirk still on his lips. "Gonna have words with him…" He mumbled to himself. The smirk vanished from his face. "You know, these last couple of weeks I've figured out what that greasy bastard was trying to tell me. I don't deserve this shit; I never have, and just because people keep feeding it to me doesn't make it right. Dumbledore said he cared. Fuck Dumbledore. Ron said he was my best friend. Fuck Ron, and now…" Harry shook his head and turned away from Hermione.

"Fuck you."

He walked off, leaving Hermione sobbing miserably behind him.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

Harry relaxed on the sandy Australian beach. The last couple of weeks had passed by in a blur. After he left Hermione, he'd simply walked until he was tired of walking. He found himself in a rougher muggle part of town, but it wasn't as if he was defenseless. Having nothing better to do, he walked into the nearest bar and asked the barkeep if he was hiring.

"I'm just trying to sort out my life, and I need food and a place to stay," was all he'd said, but the bar's owner agreed to hire him and let him stay in a small room in the back. He had a cot, a shower, and a cooler. He spent the nights cooking and working as a bar-back, and during the days he was just another bum. He smiled to himself. There was something refreshingly honest about the disdain the girls around her showed his scrawny, underdeveloped frame. He loved every second of the anonymity.

Unfortunately, he had to admit that Snape was right about one thing: He hadn't the foggiest idea what to do with his life, and having to make the choice rather sucked. He shrugged internally. As much as he hated to admit it, the anger and hurt over Hermione's actions sat in his gut like one of Hagrid's cakes. He'd spent two weeks mulling everything over and he still hadn't managed to come to any real conclusion. He missed her, even though he never wanted to see her again.

His fist clenched as a flare of anger erupted in his heart. He took a few moments to calm down, and then stood up. He knew one thing; he needed to have a long overdue conversation with a certain greasy arsehat.

Harry left the beach to tell the bar's owner that he was getting his things and leaving. The bartender didn't smile or frown, but he clapped Harry on the shoulder and wished him luck. Two hours later, Harry activated the portkey back to Britain.

* * *

Harry walked the familiar path towards Hogwarts. He couldn't believe that only a few months previous he'd basically committed suicide via Voldemort, returned to life, watched Voldemort commit suicide via Voldemort, committed suicide again, and then returned to life a second time in as many weeks. He was glad that the students hadn't returned. He let his feet carry him towards the Forbidden Forest and the final part of the Deathly Hallows.

"'Arry!" Hagrid's voice boomed out, making him jump a little. Harry turned, and the first genuine smile in weeks bloomed on his face. Hagrid came happily galumphing towards him. "It's good ta' see yah, lad! 'ower yah doin'?" Harry shrugged. Hagrid just grinned and drew Harry into a spine-snapping hug. "None a' tha', 'Arry, but it's good ta' see yah again!" Hagrid set Harry down. "Oh, right, afore ah fergit, the centaurs gave me sumtin tah give ter yeh." Hagrid started patting down the pockets of his great moleskin jacket. Harry smiled as Hagrid mumbled "ah knew it were somewhere in here."

"Ah ha!" The half giant bellowed as he pulled the Resurrection Stone from the depths of his jacket. "Ah knew it were in here somewhar!" He handed the stone to Harry, who only blinked in surprise. "Tha centaurs were a might bit upset at it bein' in the woods, you see, an' they dropped it off fer me tah give ter you. Somethin' bout it bein' outside o' the order o' the stars or sommach." Hagrid shrugged. "But they said it were yours so 'ere yah go! Anyhow, wat's this ah hear 'bout you and Hermione bein' married?" Hagrid asked with a happy smile. Harry grimaced. Hagrid looked surprised. "Wot? There sumthin' wrong?"

Harry shrugged, and waved off Hagrid's concern. "It's nothing. Really, it's nothing. Just another one of Dumbledore's brilliant ideas."

Hagrid's brow furrowed. "Now Harry ah never thought ah'd hear yah say sumthin bad 'bout Dumbledore. He was a great wizard, he was, and a great man."

Harry shook his head and clenched the stone in his fist. "Yeah, you're right Hagrid, just forget I said anything. Don't worry about it. Hermione and I aren't married."

"Oh really?" A voice said silkily. "Is that so, Potter?"

Hagrid gaped at Snape's ghostly form. "Well bugger me sideways with a dragon!" Snape and Harry blanched at the mental image. "Professor Snape, whaterya doin' here? Yeh aren't planning on hauntin' me cabin are yeh?"

Snape sneered at his bumbling former 'colleague.' "No, thank Merlin, I'm not. I suppose I'm here because Harry wanted a few words?" Harry nodded. "Very well." He turned to Hagrid. "This is a personal matter…"

"Oh, right then. Ah'll be seein' you, Harry?" Harry nodded. After giving Harry another hug, Hagrid ambled back towards his cabin, muttering the whole way about how even death couldn't wash that arsehole's hair. Snape sneered at his retreating form.

"Simpleton." He turned to Harry and smirked. "So I suppose this is where you admit that I was right?"

"Fuck you," Harry replied. "You have no clue how wrong you were, are, and will always be."

Snape blinked at the venom in Harry's voice. "Elucidate," he commanded.

"Why should I?" Harry asked. "It's not like you or Dumbledore know a damned thing about anything."

"If you didn't want to talk to me, you wouldn't have come back for the stone." Snape said with a sneer. "So let's skip the mindless antagonism and get to the point."

"Fine," Harry spat. "So it turns out that Hermione and I got a little carried away while we were searching for the Horcruxes."

Snape's eyebrow elevated. "Not entirely unexpected, but I'm confused as to why you are mentioning this _now_, instead of the last time we met. I mean, that would be a rather definite clue that she held some affection for you, would it not?"

"Well, I certainly would have," Harry said with a feral grin, "if I'd _remembered_."

Snape blinked. "You mean to tell me that the great Harry Potter got so potted that he banged the bookworm but couldn't retain the recollection?" He started to laugh.

"No you fucking puddle of troll spooge," Harry spat, "she bloody well obliviated me afterwards."

"…well shit," Snape said softly, his laughter instantly extinguished.

"Yeah." Harry's jaw clenched in anger. "So, oh great and bloody all-knowing bastard, what pearls of infantile wisdom are going to vomit at me now?"

"No need to get nasty," Snape said offhandedly, "I'm sure one day the two of you will just look back at all this and laugh." Harry stared at Snape with the same mindless hatred that allowed him to crucio Carrows for spitting in McGonagall's face. "Or not. I suppose you're going to tell me now that you don't love her?" Snape asked with the tiniest hint of sadness in his voice.

"Of course I love her," Harry spat, "but that doesn't mean a bloody thing now, does it? What was that thing you were going on about? Me having control over my own life now or some shit? Well, I've got control, and I'm perfectly bloody miserable with it, but now that I've got some choice in life I can't bloody well let Hermione muck about in my head whenever she pleases. And I'm certainly not bloody well happy with your silly little matchmaking game!" By the time he'd finished the sentence, Harry was screaming.

Snape pinched the middle of his ghostly nose. Harry stared at him expectantly, arms crossed. "Well?" He asked.

"I certainly didn't foresee this little wrinkle." Snape replied quietly.

"Oh, just bloody great." Harry threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "So, what, you blindly thrust us together in your oh-so-smug manner and never once considered that perhaps you were wrong and we weren't the perfect bloody couple?"

Snape shook his head. "No, it's not like that at all. It shouldn't have worked. Hell, you left before I had the chance to explain that you could return to life whenever you wanted, bond or not."

Harry blinked. "You're taking the piss."

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, I am not 'taking the piss' as you so eloquently put it. I needed a way to keep you from the preemptively matrimonial grasp of the matron Weasley, and I found the most potent method of assuring it." Snape sighed. "I assure you, if the ritual completed then at that moment both of you were quite willing, if not able to acknowledge the fact, to spend the next lifetime happily wed."

"Well that's all well in theory, but the practice falls a bit short, doesn't it?"

Snape shrugged. "Well, what do you expect me to do about it, Potter?"

"I expect you to tell me exactly how to bloody well undo it, Professor."

"I haven't the foggiest."

Harry gaped. "You have got to be shitting me! No backup plan? No convoluted plot with an excess of exits?" He spat. "Oh, of course not, this is Potter's life you mucked about in. Can't give the bloody son of James bloody Potter the same bloody effort you wasted on that inbred blond skrewt sodomizer, can't have that! Wait, what about Dumbledore? Did he come up with something? Of course not! 'Greater good' and all that shit. Job's done, why waste more than the minimum amount of time WIPING YOUR ARSE AFTER SHITTING ALL OVER ME!"

"Harry," a soft grandfather voice said, "Harry I'm so sorry…"

Harry looked up. He could see the pain etched in Dumbledore's face. "Don't. Just… don't. I know why you did it, and it's done. You're brilliant plan worked, Voldemort's dead, the world's saved. So unless you have some forgotten magic under that pointy hat, it's time to stay dead and leave the living to tidy up after you."

"I suppose I deserved that," Dumbledore said softly.

"Yes, you did." Harry and Snape said at the same moment, along with the sibilant addition of a third voice.

Dumbledore winced. Snape pinched the arc of his nose. Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. "Of course, this little party of people I really can't bloody stand wasn't complete without you. What in Merlin's name are _you_ doing here?" Harry spat.

"Enjoying the respite," Riddle's ghost replied emotionlessly.

Harry ground his teeth in frustration. "Well, here we have almost the entire collection of the 'lets bugger up Harry's life for our own sordid little plans' club. So, Tom, since you're the only one who isn't actually involved with this fiasco, any words of advice?"

Voldemort's shade stared pointed at Harry. "You are asking me for relationship advice?"

"No you sodding bastard," Harry hissed between clenched teeth, "I'm asking you for a way to break these," he waved his hand towards Snape and Dumbledore, "two wizards' little mistake."

"Kill the bitch," Riddle said flatly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "There goes any hope that people are reformed by the afterlife."

Riddle shrugged. "Well, if you don't want the most expedient and satisfactory solution, perhaps you should tell me what the problem is."

"I. Can't. Bloody. Believe. I'm. Having. This. Conversation."

"If it makes you feel any better, every moment of respite here only makes the torment worse when I return."

"Really?" Harry asked flatly.

Voldemort replied with a shrug. "I quite literally have nothing better to do."

"Ever hear of 'True Bonding?'" Harry asked, ignoring Dumbledore's frown and Snape's blank expression.

Voldemort stroked his jaw. "Hmm… ancient magic, requires human sacrifice, practically unknown."

"That would be it, yes," Harry responded nastily.

Riddle took a few moments to ponder. "Kill the bitch."

Harry threw his hands in the air. "I should have bloody known. Go to Hell, Tom." Voldemort's shade vanished with an air of resignation. Harry turned and looked pointedly at Dumbledore. "So, are you actually going to helpful or do I have the dubious pleasure of another one of you tidbits of great, but useless, wisdom?" Harry's words were sarcastic but his voice had the slightest undertone of pleading.

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, words can't express how sorry I am."

"I take that as a no," Harry said forlornly.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Perhaps you will find something that we missed. You'll find the information on the ritual in my office. Just tell Minerva to give you the book that's shrunken and hidden on the back of my portrait."

Harry grumbled as he dismissed the two shades. "Of bloody course, its Hogwarts, can't ever get a damn answer, oh no, gotta hunt for every bloody thing in some bloody old book…" He grumbled as he walked towards the castle.

Minerva was shocked at Harry's arrival, but after Dumbledore's portrait assured her that the request was legitimate, she wordlessly handed the now-enlarged tome to her old student. Before he left, she stopped him. "Are you going to return for your final year?" She asked, unable to conceal the hope in her voice.

"I really don't know," Harry said. "I've got too much to think about right now."

McGonagall nodded, accepting his answer. "If it's any consolation, Mr. Potter, I always thought that you and Hermione would make a splendid couple."

Harry shrugged. "You and me both."

* * *

Harry spent the next four days pouring over the musty book, beating his head against the obsolete language and ridiculously over-complicated magical theory. 'Great, I've got forty five different ways of figuring out how make the bond, but not a single way of breaking it.' Harry thought with a grumble. He fidgeted with the Resurrection Stone while re-reading yet another hopelessly confusing passage.

"Hello Harry," a soft female voice said from behind him.

Harry turned away from the frustrating book and turned towards the voice. "Hello, Luna. What are you… I mean, why are you here?"

Luna smiled at Harry. "Because Hermione isn't, silly."

"Oh," Harry replied. "Well, I'm a little angry with her right now."

"I suppose that you are," Luna said while nodding sagely. "I was wondering," Luna continued on, "what it was like."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"What it was like when you walked into the forest before the final battle, what it was like when you walked into the Veil at the Department of Mysteries. It must have been terrible and wonderful at the same time."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Luna asked Harry another question before he could say anything. "You do know that you are very precious to a lot of people, Harry. I mean, not the everyday average person, but the people who know you, right?"

Harry nodded. Luna beamed. "Oh good, I was worried maybe you didn't. Anyhow, I was wondering how it felt, making the choice to take away something so precious to so many people, just so they could be happy. Did you talk to them first? Did you ask them if, perhaps, they'd be happier with you in their lives even if it meant such terrible things?"

Harry swallowed. "Luna, I…"

Luna continued blithely on. "Do you think I'm happy?"

Harry blinked, a bit disoriented by the shift in the conversation. "Um… well, you seem rather happy."

Luna smiled. "Oh yes, I am, very. It's hard work, you know, being happy." Harry nodded, not quite sure what she meant. Luna peered at Harry queerly. "You have a hard time sharing, don't you?"

"What?" Harry asked, flabbergasted at Luna's suggestion.

"Oh, I don't mean material things," Luna said airily. "Although I suppose that isn't really sharing, is it? I mean, you don't think of those things as truly yours, so you don't mind giving them away. You don't like sharing the most important things, things like Right and Wrong."

"I…" Harry said.

Luna shook her head sadly. "No… I suppose you are very selfish with the intangible things. You have to be Right, or you have to be Wrong. You aren't terrible fond of letting other people have a little bit of your Right and Wrong, do you? You like to hoard them away, squirrel them into your special places where you keep the You, and the precious little things like your feelings and caring."

Harry's mouth worked, but no sounds came out.

Luna placed her hand on top of Harry's and gazed deeply into his eyes. "It should have been me," she whispered, and for a moment Harry saw such incredible sadness in her eyes that his heart broke.

"Luna, I…" Luna cut off Harry's words by pressing a single soft finger to his lips.

"Sssh." A single tear trickled down her face. "I'll tell you a secret. Every day is different." Luna beamed, her sadness banished like the sun emerging from behind dark clouds. "Every day is different, and that's a reason for happiness. You see, happiness takes a lot of work, if it's real. You can't just say 'I'm happy,' or only be happy every once and a while, when life's going your way." Luna sighed, shaking her head, making her light blond locks move gently on her shoulders. "Real happiness shines when the skies are dark and the path narrow, when you can't move except in one direction, and you find your precious things, the things that really matter, and you share your precious things, your Right and your Wrong."

Harry swallowed heavily, his mind reeling from Luna's insights.

"Do you feel married?" Luna asked in a bubbly voice.

Harry blinked and shook his head no.

"Really? That's strange." Luna said. "Hermione feels married. I wonder what's wrong." She shrugged. "Oh well, I suppose I should return to the Burrow now. Hermione is knee deep in garden gnomes. Did you know that garden gnomes have three genders?" She turned and skipped away.

Harry stood, the book forgotten. "Luna!" He called out. Luna stopped, turning her head and regarding Harry carefully.

"Yes?"

Harry swallowed thickly. "Thank you… would you… would you tell Hermione I'm… I'm going to be there soon."

Luna pursed her lips. "No, I don't think I will."

"Luna…"

"Can you learn to share?" She asked lightly.

Harry nodded.

"Even the hard things?"

Harry nodded again.

"Then I won't have to tell her, because you are right here next to me." Luna said with a sort of soft finality.

Slowly, Harry stood and walked with heavy steps towards his friend. Luna shook her head and smiled. "Not like that Harry, happiness might take work but it's not a burden. If you keep tromping around you might attract the attention of Fudge's rogue heliopaths, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

Shaking his head in bemusement, Harry could only reply "No, I suppose I wouldn't."

Luna beamed, and skipped alongside Harry as they made their way to the Headmistress' office.


End file.
